


We Go Together

by Anderseeds



Series: Hellsing works [4]
Category: Dracula & Related Fandoms, Dracula - Bram Stoker, Hellsing
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Alternate Universe - No Millennium, Children in need of Therapy, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Implied/Referenced CSA, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Possessive Behavior, World War II references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:46:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 30,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22417951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anderseeds/pseuds/Anderseeds
Summary: “I’m- I’m Alex,” he said, sniffing and wiping at his cheeks with a coat sleeve, trying to dry them. There were too many tears for this to be an effective effort. “Alex Anderson. Alexander’s my full name, but it’s a lot to say, so people just use Alex.” He coiled a hand around his cross and the warm silver fractionally soothing his distress. It was much thicker and larger than the cross he was used to wearing, but he didn't mind. “I’m ten.”The sight of Alex clutching his cross prompted Vlad to spread his fingers over his sternum, seeking his own necklace, but there was nothing there. He frowned. “Well, I am twelve,” he said. He kicked the crumpled pile of clothes aside as he spoke, feeling around the floor with his feet. “Have you seen my cross? The cord is smaller than yours.”Anderson and Alucard are deaged by a holy relic and find a friend in each other.
Relationships: Alucard/Alexander Anderson
Series: Hellsing works [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1622206
Comments: 38
Kudos: 196





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This'll be my longest fic for this fandom yet! I hope the like, five people still in this fandom enjoy my efforts, haha.
> 
> Some things to note:
> 
> \- This fic doesn't delve too deeply into Alucard's childhood abuse/CSA, but it will come up. I know that's in the tags, but I've had people neglect to read those before and get angry at me, so I'm mentioning it here too.  
> \- Anderson is closer to sixty than seventy, hence Renaldo being around when he was a kid. That also means he grew up during WW2, so there'll be references to that as well.  
> \- All sexual content occurs when they're adults, so no need to worry about that.

The last thing Alex remembered was lying in his own bed. The air had been frigid, misting his breaths, and his quilt had been too thin and scratchy to stave off the cool air no matter how tight he curled up beneath it. He’d been thinking about asking one of the other children if he could sleep with them instead so they could warm each other through body heat. Winters were always cold in the orphanage, but they had become especially so with Mussolini’s efforts to contribute to the second world war having left them almost destitute. 

But he wasn't in bed when he opened his eyes. He wasn’t even lying down. He was standing in a small, dusty, derelict room with his hand fisted around a handful of sheet. A faded face had been woven into its fabric, and opposite him stood a boy with messy black hair who was clutching at the sheet just as firmly. While the boy was naked, Alex wasn’t, but he _was_ wearing clothes at least three sizes too big for him and they sloughed off when he moved. The embarrassment of suddenly finding himself without trousers prompted Alex to release the sheet and wrap himself in the coat sitting heavy on his shoulders, his cheeks red. The boy didn’t seem phased by his own nudity. He threw the sheet aside in favour of approaching Alex, kneeling down to dig through Alex's pile of clothes, presumably in search of something he could wear.

“Um,” he said, which wasn’t a good start to an introduction, but he was confused and frightened and it was hard to will himself to speak at all. “Where are we? Who are you?”

The boy threw a large, white shirt over his head before he answered Alex. Instead of speaking in Italian, as Alex had, he spoke in crisp Romanian. As Alex hadn’t had formal lessons on Romanian (it wasn’t one of the languages of Vatican City, after all), he wasn’t able to translate it. The word ‘Vlad’ had been in there, though, and that was easy enough to identify as a name.

Vlad watched him fumble for a few minutes before speaking again. “You don’t speak Romanian? I’m sorry. You must be a prisoner also.” His expression turned sympathetic. “This must be another one of the Sultan’s games.”

“Prisoner? The- the Sultan?” Alex knew what both these words meant, of course, but how they related to their situation was harder to grasp. The boy’s language being so anachronistic didn’t help. “I don’t understand. Have we been kidnapped? Is that what you mean?”

“Yes,” said Vlad.

Vlad appeared calm despite the situation, while Alex was on the precipice of tears, his bottom lip quivering. He didn't understand what anyone would want with an orphan. There hadn't been an adoption at Ferdinant Lukes since the war had begun and nor after an end had been announced, and someone had just... taken an interest in him? In _them_? He figured Vlad was an orphan too, since Vlad looked the part of one. He was skinny and ragged enough.

“He likes to take boys when they're young so they'll be loyal to him,” Vlad explained, and Alex closed his eyes to stifle frightened tears. “Oh, please don’t cry.” The boy settled a thin arm over Alex’s shoulders and that just made Alex want to cry even more. “What’s your name? How old are you?”

“I’m- I’m Alex,” he said, sniffing and wiping at his cheeks with a coat sleeve, trying to dry them. There were too many tears for this to be an effective effort. “Alex Anderson. Alexander’s my full name, but it’s a lot to say, so people just use Alex.” He coiled a hand around his cross and the warm silver fractionally soothing his distress. It was much thicker and larger than the cross he was used to wearing, but he didn't mind. “I’m ten.”

The sight of Alex clutching his cross prompted Vlad to spread his fingers over his sternum, seeking his own necklace, but there was nothing there. He frowned. “Well, I am twelve,” he said. He kicked the crumpled pile of clothes aside as he spoke, feeling around the floor with his feet. “Have you seen my cross? The cord is smaller than yours.”

Giving another deep, wet sniff, Alex looked down. The only thing he could see was a pair of sunglasses, normal glasses, and a gun. Vlad noticed the weapon at the same time he did and picked it up, peering into the barrel. Alex squeaked in alarm.

“What’s th-?”

He slapped the gun out of Vlad's hands before he could finish, sending it skidding across the ground. Indignation flew onto Vlad's face.

“You could have just asked me to put it down,” he said, annoyed.

“You might have shot yourself by then!” Alex said, voice cracking and cheeks shining with freshly shed tears.

Vlad frowned. “Shot myself?”

“Yes!” Alex said. “Shot yourself! That’s what guns do! They're for shooting things!”

“You need to explain.”

Alex made an exasperated sound. He wouldn't have thought any boy near his age could be ignorant of what a gun was. The war was in the newspaper, in comics, on the radio, on telly, and the adults spoke endlessly about it even after its conclusion, so you could barely go a day without hearing about guns and what they did.

“If you pull the trigger, metal comes out and kills you- or someone else," he explained. "We would be in so much trouble if Mother De Luca had seen us handling a gun!” 

Not that there was any way she could have seen them. It just put fear into his pre-adolescent heart to imagine the consequences of being found touching something as dangerous as a gun. He’d once kept a knife in his shoe because he liked embedding them in things, particularly the trees on the outskirts of Ferdinant Lukes, and Mother De Luca had been so livid upon finding it that he received the one and only spanking she had ever doled out. Even if it hadn’t been particularly painful, being yelled at and then spanked in hearing range of the other kids had been embarrassing enough to ensure he never tried to sneak a knife from the kitchens again.

“Metal comes out and kills you,” Vlad intoned, staring at the gun. The cross seemed to have been forgotten in light of this new discovery. “New Turk weaponry… I never would have conceived of something like this.” There was a moments pause before he spoke again. “Maybe he wants us to try to use it on him, and if we do, the punishment will be even worse than what he already has planned.” He flicked his tongue over his lips, a slight tremor developing in the tense line of his shoulders. “Or maybe he accidentally dropped it.”

Alex gave a sob of alarm, and Vlad started at the sound.

“No, it is okay. Please don't cry anymore. When he comes I'll-!”

They both leapt a good foot back when a thud sounded from the stairs. Vlad scrambled for the gun, his movements uncoordinated and desperate, while Alex hurried to stand behind him.

“How do you use this again,” Vlad asked in a tremoring voice. His fingers were pale and shaking around the grip of the weapon. “The trigger- this little metal thing here, yes? And you just point this part at the Sultan?”

There was clearly no point in trying to convince him this was a bad idea.

“Yes, the part with the hole! You point it at someone and pull the little metal part!”

“Okay. Okay.”

A man emerged from a doorway at the very back of the room, rendered a silhouette by the dark. Vlad pulled the trigger with a bellowing shout- _Muri_! The man gave a shout of his own, his full of shrill alarm, but he needn't have worried: the bullet missed him by several feet and the kickback was so sudden and unexpected that Vlad immediately dropped the gun. The bullet chamber came loose and slid out, gliding across the floor, so even if he had wanted to try again, there wasn’t enough time. The moment the man had recovered his composure, he was running at them.

“Behind me! Behind me!” Vlad shouted, but Alex couldn’t let Vlad face their assailant alone.

He met the man halfway, lunging for his legs in an attempt to knock him over. He instead ending up on his stomach with a hand closed over the nape of his neck. Vlad hurried to help him, but his steps faltered before he reached Alex.

“That’s not the Sultan,” he said, bewildered. “That man is Christian.”

Twisting around as best he could, Alex realised the man was not only a Christian, but a priest too. He was wearing a clergy jacket, a clerical collar, and had a thick silver cross hanging low on his chest. His hair was dark and his eyes kind and blue. Alex went limp under his grip. A priest being here meant they were about to be rescued.

The man didn’t relax even after it became apparent neither Vlad nor Alex were going to resume their attack. Not without provocation, anyway. He released Alex, cast his eyes over the sheet of fabric crumbled up on the floor, and grimaced.

“Give me your names,” he instructed.

“Alex Anderson,” Alex answered. “I live at Ferdinant Lukes!”

“I am Vlad,” was all Vlad provided. While he’d been quick to extend Alex trust, he regarded their rescuer with caution and suspicion. He was edging in very small increments back toward the gun. “Are you here to help us?”

“Yes,” said the man. “I can see you edging toward that gun. You don't have to worry, son; I wouldn't harm a child." He gestured to the ground. "Just sit down a moment. I need to make a call.”

Before either of them could pose further questions, he’d retrieved the sheet of fabric from the floor and set a phone against his ear. Alex had seen phones before, but nothing quite so small. It wasn’t even attached to anything. 

“Maxwell? It’s Carloni, from the Mattias Division. We’ve successfully collected the Veil of Veronica with Anderson’s help, but we’ve, uh…” His eyes drifted from Vlad to Alex and then away again. “We’ve got a situation on our hands.”

* * *

Alex had never been inside Vatican City. One of the Mother’s had told him it wasn’t a place for children, so he’d planned to go there one day as an adult, once he’d gone through seminary school and been ordained. Needless to say, he was brimming with excitement when Carloni walked them right through the bowels of the city and toward the Archbishop’s office. It was enough of a privilege just to be let into Vatican City, but to meet the Archbishop as well? Alex could barely contain himself!

Vlad shared some of his enthusiasm, but he'd spent most of the trip in a state of awe. He had been ever since they’d exited the room- which had turned out to be attached to a series of labyrinthine hallways, and those had taken a good twenty minutes to find the end of. He seemed enthralled with everything: the way people dressed, the way they spoke, the height of the buildings, the vehicles on the road, the road itself, the shops- absolutely everything. Alex was awed by these things too, but to a much lesser degree than Vlad, and after a while he’d managed to convince himself that he just hadn’t seen these things because he’d scarcely ventured beyond the orphanage. 

They were made to step into a closet and put on better-fitting clothes before they entered the office. Whoever had purchased them had to guess their sizes, so the shirt provided was just a little big on him, leaving him with sleeves hanging over his hands and the hem low over his hips. Once he had it on, he saw that the shirt had a white love heart and a bunny on the front. A little embarrassing. The matching shorts looked nicer and definitely fit better. The last thing he had to do was pull on some ankle socks and a slightly-too-big pair of shoes, and he glanced over to see how far along Vlad was while lowering himself to the floor.

Vlad was squinting at the clothes tags. Why he was so interested in them was beyond Alex, but he didn’t want to leave the Archbishop waiting. It would be exceedingly rude. 

“Hey, are the clothes where you come from different or something?" He asked. "Do you need help?”

“No, I…” Vlad released the tag he was holding and picked up the shirt, staring at the yellow oval and bat on the front. Alex was a little jealous. His clothes were much cooler than what Alex was wearing. “Do you know what that is?”

“It’s a bat.”

“I know that,” said Vlad, slightly miffed. “It just looks like a symbol of some sort, and I would rather not wear a symbol of which I’m unfamiliar.”

“Do you want to swap?” asked Alex hopefully.

Vlad glanced at the heart and bunny on the front of his shirt. “No.”

Alex huffed. “Look, it was chosen for us by the people here, so it’s fine. Besides, the Archbishop is waiting for us.” He cocked an eyebrow at Vlad. “Do you know what an Archbishop is? Because he’s really, _really_ important.”

“Of course I know. I’m Christian as well.” Vlad seemed to take offence to the implication he might not be. “Some of the locations in this place, they’re… I’ve read about them. I know St. Peter's Basilica, built over the Circus of Nero. I know Leonine City.” He shucked off his shirt and startled to pull on his clothes, which prompted Alex to resume his own dressing. “But there was never any mention of a Vatican City. This place is so strange and disorientating.”

“You said you were a prisoner, right?” asked Alex. Once Vlad had nodded, he continued. “Then maybe you just weren’t around to see all of this change.”

“I wasn’t imprisoned _that_ long.” Vlad had discovered the zip on his pants, and he unzipped and rezipped it a few times before leaving it in place. His clothes fit him a lot better than Alex’s. It was only the pant legs that needed some adjustments, being an inch or two too long for him.

“I don’t know, then.” Alex shrugged. “I’m just as confused as you are. But the Archbishop will explain what’s going on, don’t worry.” 

“Have you met him before?” asked Vlad, now watching Alex tie his shoes. His attempts to emulate Alex failed, so Alex crawled over and did one of his shoes for him. He'd taught some of the other kids how to tie shoes, so he was a pretty good teacher by this point.

“Me? Definitely not.” He re-did and un-did the laces a few times since Vlad still seemed to be struggling with copying Alex’s hand movements, and eventually Vlad did manage to tie his remaining shoe. A little loose, but it would probably hold. “I’m just an orphan. I wasn’t even allowed in here until now.”

“Oh,” said Vlad quietly. “What happened to your parents?”

Having spent his entire life around other orphans, Alex sometimes forgot it was a sad topic for other people. He quickly amended with, “I do have other family. I mean, not blood related family, just the other kids and the staff at my orphanage.” Now that they were both dressed, he went for the exit. “And I don’t know what happened to my parents. I don’t care either. They didn’t want me and I don’t want them.”

Privately, bitterly, he hoped they were dead. Maybe that wasn’t an appropriate thing for him to think, but they’d abandoned him on an orphanage doorstep so they probably weren’t good people. Alex had been told that sometimes it was okay to think bad people deserved to die.

“It’s good you are being cared for,” said Vlad as they stepped back out into the hallway. “Where I come from, you would probably be dead. Most people don’t want to look after brood that isn’t their flesh and blood, and there is only so many the church can take on.”

Alex tittered. “Well, I’m glad I don’t come from Romania then.”

They were accosted by Carloni shortly after exiting the closet. “What in the world took you two so long?” he asked, pressing them bodily down the hall. “It’s been fifteen minutes! You shouldn't have needed fifteen minutes to dress!”

Alex winced, ashamed of himself. He hadn't realised how long they'd been in there. The Archbishops time was _far_ more valuable than his and he’d just wasted fifteen minutes of it. 

“Sorry,” he murmured, eyes downcast. "I was trying to be fast, but I- I guess I got distracted."

Vlad took one look at him and concern carved a divot on his brow. “We wasted time because I needed help with these shoes," he said, looking Carloni in the eye. "If anyone should be punished, it should be me.”

Carloni’s voice faltered, and by the time he’d recovered it it’d lost its harried edge. “That’s not what I meant. No one’s going to be punished over something so small.”

A look of relief fell simultaneously over his and Vlad’s faces. Not that Alex had thought the Archbishop would do anything to him (he knew all figures of such high status got their position by embodying virtue, among which was patience and compassion), but it was still good to know it wasn’t a punishable offence. That eased his guilt.

"I'm not angry," said Carloni. His grip and voice had turned gentle. "Forget I said anything, alright? We're coming up on His Excellency's door."

They were escorted into a large, well-furnished and lavishly decorated room, and even with shoes on Alex could feel how plush the carpet was, how easily it gave under his feet. It must have been a recent instalment since the rest of the place looked archaic in design. The walls had some of the best wooden panelling Alex had ever seen and the bookshelves that lined them were so intricately designed and thoroughly stuffed that Alex could barely bring himself to drag his eyes away. He desperately wanted to read some of those books.

The Archbishop looked up from his desk as they approached. He wasn’t exactly what Alex had expected, age wise. He’d thought only people who were wrinkled and grey got this position, and the man was _kind of_ grey, with his queer silver hair, but definitely not wrinkled. The addition of the violet eyes made him even more a jarring sight. Not an unpleasant one, mind you. More interesting than anything else, like looking at a marble statue.

“Sorry for the wait, Your Excellency Maxwell.” Carloni stepped away, hands folded politely behind his back. Alex was quick to copy his stance. “It seems the Veil works in ways we didn’t anticipate. I’m not sure what prompted this to happen, but I’ve had the Veil collected and put somewhere safe.”

“Good, good.” Despite the fact he and Vlad had only just arrived, Maxwell was already starting to sound weary. “Has a call been put through to Hellsing? This is as much their mess than ours. _More_ , even.”

“I’ve already made the appropriate arrangements, yes,” said Carloni.

“Good,” he said again. “I’ll be waiting for them to get on the line. And make sure Father Renaldo expresses our disapproval of their pursuing a holy relic that rightfully belongs to _us_.”

“Of course, Your Excellency.”

“Thank you.” His eyes dropped, finally, to Vlad and Alex. “You can return to your other duties. I can handle two children.”

He rose from his chair and Alex startled at just how tall he was. Did his head brush the tops of doorways? He was sure it did. He was well over two feet taller than both himself and Vlad and his lean build only contributed to the impression of his body being _far_ too long.

Circling around his desk, he perched himself on the edge and swept his eyes from the tops of their heads and down. The quiet examination made Alex squirm. Vlad, however, remained perfectly still, his expression inscrutable.

“So,” he said after a considerable pause. “Neither of you remember anything?”

“Remember what?” asked Vlad, and Alex was tempted to kick him in the leg for forgetting to tack on ‘Your Excellency’.

“Well, there’s my answer,” Maxwell said, sighing and touching his fingers to his brow. “I’m going to tell you something you might find difficult to believe, but I ask that you _try_. Alright?”

“Of course, Your Excellency,” said Alex, eager to please.

Vlad, less eager, merely nodded.

There was a lull of silence before Maxwell spoke again. “You’re both actually adults, and this is the future," he said, which was definitely not among the things Alex had been anticipating. "I’m not sure how old you were when-“ He gestured to Vlad. “Wait, what was your name again?”

“You never asked me my name,” said Vlad quietly. “It’s Vlad.”

“Vlad. Right.” He quickly started where he left off. “I have no idea how old you were when you had your age reduced, Vlad, but Anderson- Alexander- you were somewhere between sixty and seventy.” 

Alex tilted his head at Maxwell, his lips pulled into a frown. It was hard to envision himself at that age and even harder to believe he'd ever been it, but he knew the Archbishop wouldn't lie to him, so it had to be true. It _would_ explain why things beyond the car window had looked so odd. “That’s… very old,” he said. It took a great deal of self-control not to burst out with all the questions he had. He expected Maxwell had more to say and he didn't want to hinder him.

“You didn’t look it,” said Maxwell, then he pressed on. “You boys know what miracles are, don’t you?”

“Acts performed by God,” Vlad provided and Maxwell nodded in approval.

“That’s what turned you into children. A miracle. It was provided by the veil you might’ve seen in that underground chamber, the one with the face on it. That was Jesus’ face.”

“The... the Veil of Veronica?” asked Vlad. “I've heard of it before. That was truly the veil?”

"It was," said Maxwell. "And it endowed a miracle upon you two."

Alex's heartbeat picked up at the thought of being the subject of a real-life miracle. And attached to a real-life relic, no less! He'd thought he heard wrong when Carloni named it on the phone. Had been sure of that, in fact, because it'd made more sense than the reality at the time.

"A miracle," he said, full of awe. He couldn't imagine why he had been chosen for one. He was an orphan, completely insignificant. There were people much more deserving of the privilege. 

He cast a side-long look at Vlad, who looked similarly confused.

“Did we…” Alex gnawed on the edge of his lip, worried about sounding conceited. He was just dying to know what his relationship with Maxwell had been, because maybe the man could explain what he'd done to deserve a miracle. “Before the miracle, did we know each other, Your Excellency? Probably not, but you speak with some familiarity and-“

“We did, actually,” interrupted Maxwell.

Alex flushed with pleasure. 

“We all knew each other,” Maxwell continued, nodding to Vlad. His gaze lingered on the boy. “The Veil had been discovered by Father Heinrich Pfeiffer, and you, Alexander, were sent to retrieve it by the Vatican.”

Alex gave a sharp inhale at this explanation. Entrusted with the retrieval of a relic. It felt too good to be true, too great an honour for a mere orphan. His awe strangled him of his words, and fortunately Vlad was quick to fill the silence.

“Why was I there?” asked Vlad, eyebrows narrowed. “How was I there? Because I… this place is so different from anything I recognise. I can believe it is the future, but how could the world change this much? How can I still be around?”

Maxwell pursed his lips for a moment before responding. “You aren’t part of this organisation, therefore, you aren’t my problem. I’ll let the people actually responsible for you explain.”

Vlad’s eyebrows narrowed further. Alex’s narrowed as well, his pleasure at serving the Vatican snuffed out by the knowledge Vlad hadn’t been serving at his side.

“Well,” said Alex, his voice increasing in volume. “If he was there with me and we were both touched by a miracle, then he’s probably meant to be here with us, right?”

Breath whistling through his teeth, Maxwell wiped a thumb across the bottom of one of his eyes, clearly fatigued. There was probably a lot on an Archbishops daily schedule. “The miracle might have worked on someone regardless of whether or not they deserved it. I have good reason to believe it was unintentional, in Vlad's case.”

Alex visibly deflated. He glanced at Vlad, whose gaze was on the floor, now.

“If- if he didn’t deserve it, then neither did I,” he said, shuffling closer to Vlad. Vlad glanced at him. “I think he should be here, anyway. Maybe it wasn't deliberate, but... but I think we're meant to be friends, anyway.”

A grimace crossed Maxwell’s regal features. “You’re _friends_?”

“Yes,” said Vlad, his voice fast and flustered. His fingers found Alex’s left hand, still encased in its shirt sleeve, and coiled around it. “This is all confusing, but I want to remain with Alex. I know that much. You are an Archbishop, a Christian, so I would expect you to do the right thing, not like the Islamist's.”

Maxwell gave Vlad an odd look, at that. “Are you a Christian?”

“I'm not a heretic.” He sounded and looked defensive despite having not being accused of such. Maxwell seemed taken aback by the ferocity in his voice. “I believe in the one true God, the Christian God!”

Biting his lip, Alex gave Vlad’s fingers a gentle squeeze to reassure him. Surprisingly, this seemed to calm Vlad down, his shoulders falling from the rigid line they’d risen into.

“I lost my cross,” continued Vlad in a far more subdued voice. He jerked his chin toward his sternum and the absence of anything there. “I would like another, if you wouldn’t mind.”

At this point, Alex couldn’t really blame Maxwell for looking like an overwrought parent. He ran a hand up into his hair, then reached behind himself and pulled open a desk drawer, groping through the contents. He pushed bibles aside, removed piles of paper, flicked a few pens to the back of the drawer and finally located what he was looking for – a beautiful, gold-plated Roman Catholic cross.

Alex’s eyes widened. His own plain silver cross felt inadequate next to something so stunning, but he was nothing but pleased when Maxwell approached Vlad and set the cross around his neck. Extending Vlad use of such a precious object could only mean Vlad had been accepted, despite apparently not having association to the Vatican.

Vlad, smiling faintly, picked up the cross and pressed it to his lips.

“Thank you, Your Excellency,” said Vlad.

For the first time since their arrival, Maxwell smiled. It made him appear so much more approachable. “Oh, I’m sure Integra will _love_ this,” he murmured as he resumed perching on the edge of his desk. “So, boys…” He leaned on a palm, lounging now. “Have you accepted this de-aging ordeal as truth, or will I need to go over it again?”

It was tempting to ask for another explanation simply because it would make understanding the situation easier, but Alex didn’t want to waste more of the Archbishops time. They were probably eating into his off hours (he had to have those, right?).

He’d been convinced. That was enough. He didn’t need further explanation to trust the Archbishop.

A plastic rectangle on Maxwell’s desk – Alex was certain it was a phone, despite looking so odd – suddenly began to beep. Maxwell didn’t so much as look at it, waiting patiently for an answer.

“I believe you, Your Excellency Maxwell,” said Alex, with perhaps more intensity than necessary. “It’s- It’s strange, but I know the Archbishop wouldn’t lie.”

“Thank you, Alex,” said Maxwell. He turned to face Vlad. “And you?”

“I-“ Vlad opened and closed his mouth a few times before finally coming up with an answer. “I don’t entirely understand what’s going on, but I trust Alex’s judgement on this. And I will trust you, Your Excellency.” His small, thin fingers idly stroked over the gleaming gold of his cross. It suited him well, fit his aristocratic face. “You have kindly given me this cross, after all.”

Maxwell offered another pleasant smile. “Good. I’m glad we’re all on the same page.” The way he said it suggested he’d expected this meeting to go much worse than it had. He didn’t seem to like children. Having spent his entire life in a group home and watched the staff gradually sprout grey hairs, Alex could somewhat understand why.

“Um,” said Alex, wincing. He didn’t usually stumble this much. “So what's the year? If it's, erm… ten plus…” He didn’t excel at maths, but it was a fairly easy calculation to figure out. “It'd be the nineties or early two thousands, right?”

“The year is nineteen ninety-nine,” answered Maxwell. 

He and Vlad gasped simultaneously. Vlad louder than him, his eyes as wide as saucers. Whatever time he hailed from must have been further back than Alex’s, which explained his odd pattern of speech.

“But,” said Vlad, sounding breathless. “If that’s the date, I should definitely be dead. Men don’t live that long.”

Maxwell’s voice was light, despite the topic. “No, they don’t. Iscariot never did figure out your age, only a dubious ‘maybe a century or two old’.”

Now it was Alex’s turn to go wide eyed. Iscariot was a curious mention, since he had heard of the organisation, but it was the suggestion of Vlad being 'a century or two old' that captured his attention. He didn’t know what to think of that. He’d thought Vlad older- but not quite that old! Had he experienced a miracle prior to this one? Had God given him a gift of extended life?

“And speaking of,” continued Maxwell, plucking the phone out of its holder and bringing it to his ear. “So sorry to make you wait, Integra. I was just-!”

This Integra sure could speak loud, thought Alex. He didn’t want to eavesdrop on a private conversation, but it was nigh impossible to ignore her.

“Maxwell, where is Alucard? If you’ve broken treaty terms _again_ , I’m going to put you through every consequence I can eek out of our supervisors!”

Alex cast Vlad a curious look and mouthed ‘Alucard’. Another curiosity among a growing list of curiosities. Vlad didn't respond beyond a shake of his head, appearing distracted by Maxwell’s conversation. Or more specifically, the phone. Alex would have to explain that to him at some point.

“Cease yelling, would you? He’s right here, and several feet shorter than you’re used to. Father Renaldo gave you all the details, didn’t he?”

“Not all of them, and you damn well know it. You haven’t touched him?”

“No more than necessary.”

“ _Maxwell_ -!”

Maxwell sighed, rather dramatically. “No harm has come to him. Now, more importantly, do I hear a helicopter in the background?”

“You know you do. I’m en route.”

The woman’s voice lowered to something inaudible as the conversation continued. Without full context, it was difficult to follow what was being discussed, and that wasn’t something Alex was complaining about. He turned to Vlad and leaned in to whisper by his ear.

“Maybe this is the second time you’ve been touched by a miracle,” he murmured, taken by the possibility. “Maybe you’re one of God’s chosen.”

“I…” Vlad smiled, small and warm, but there was disbelief in his eyes. “I’m not suitable for such a thing. Even the Archbishop believe so. I would never ask God for such a privilege.”

“You don’t need to ask God to be chosen,” said Alex, louder now. Maxwell’s gaze briefly flicked to them before being drawn away by his phone conversation. “God chooses people who’re deserving.” He liked the idea of Vlad being a receptacle of God's will far more than them having been turned into children by accident. " _I_ think you're deserving."

Vlad didn’t seem to know how to respond to this. He opened and closed his mouth a few times before settling on casting a sheepish look at the wall. His grip on Alex’s hand tightened. Almost vice-like by now, but Alex found it comforting. He squeezed back just as fiercely.

After a long moment of companionable silence- save for the sound of Maxwell’s voice, of course, Alex spoke again. “If I’m usually an adult, I would probably have my own house or something, right? You can stay with me if you want. We might be stuck here a while.”

Vlad’s expression developed a sombre quality. “The conversation they're having makes me fear they will try to part us. But I won’t let that happen.”

“I’m sure they’ll understand if we tell them we want to remain together,” said Alex, trying to soothe him. His words didn’t seem to imbue Vlad with the intended confidence, so he tried again. “Well, if they _do_ try to make us leave each other, I won’t let it happen either! We're in this together.”

Vlad tentatively nodded. “I can agree with that. We are in this together.”

Their conversation abruptly ended when Maxwell slammed the phone back into its cradle. He turned to Alex and Vlad, threw up his hands like they could empathise with his exasperation (they couldn’t, but Alex at least made an effort to look sympathetic), then gestured them in the direction of the exit.

“Come on, Father Renaldo’s waiting for you outside.” He took wide strides across the room. Those long legs meant he had reached the exit long before either Alex and Vlad were able to.

“Where’re we going?” asked Alex, with audible concern. Vlad’s brow was furrowed, his gaze full of suspicion.

“To Ferdinant Lukes,” Maxwell answered, which immediately alleviated Alex's concern. Ferdinant Lukes was his home. "You'll be staying there for the time being."

“That’s my orphanage,” Alex told a puzzled Vlad. “I can show you around. I mean-“ His eyes flicked back up to Maxwell, who was ushering them out into the hallway. “The layout is the same, right?”

Maxwell gave him a distracted sort of nod. “For the most part. Now, move a little faster or Integra’s going to arrive at the orphanage before we do.”

“Why would that be bad?” asked Vlad. He seemed a little more at ease after Alex's announcement of familiarity with their destination.

Maxwell muttered something under his breath, too quiet to be intelligible, but Alex gathered by his expression that he didn’t appreciate their questions. “Why don’t you ask Integra when she arrives. She works with a nineteen-year-old; she must be used to babysitting children.”

Nineteen sounded very old to Alex, but he didn’t say as much. He’d already wasted Maxwell’s time once today and he didn’t want to do it again. His guilt compelled him to hasten his steps.

The sun had dipped low on the horizon during their time in the Vatican, suffusing the sky in shades of pink and orange. It wouldn’t be long before night fell. Alex wasn’t tired, but he was prepared to go to bed when it hit eight thirty, as was customary for boys his age. They probably had a few more hours before then.

A man in a cassock long enough to brush the toes of shoes was waiting for them by the door of a limousine. Alex did a double-take upon seeing his face.

“Father Renaldo?” he cried in shock. It hadn’t occurred to him that Father Renaldo would be _old_ , and my, was he old. Maybe fifty or sixty, all grey and laden with wrinkles. He had been blond, once, just like Alex. He hadn’t needed glasses either.

Renaldo was looking at him with equal surprise. Slowly, he approached, reaching out to set his hands upon Alex’s thin shoulders. “Alex.” He gave them a squeeze. “You look just like I remember.”

“You don’t,” he said quietly, involuntarily drawing Vlad closer, seeking the comfort of proximity. Vlad obliged him by bringing their shoulders together.

Everyone he’d ever known was probably old or dead. He hadn’t thought about that, about finding out the fates of those he'd known as a child. He was used to death, having grown up during the second world war, but it was still upsetting.

“I imagine not,” said Renaldo, chuckling. His voice and expression were warm. “Do you think the moustache suits me?”

Alex’s lips quirked up into a tentative smile. “Sort of makes you look like a walrus. In a good way, though.”

“Thank you,” Renaldo said with a burst of laughter, releasing Alex to pull open the passenger door. “Maxwell in first, then you two. Don’t touch the drinks compartment, alright?”

“Alright,” said Alex.

Vlad nodded, but his knit brow made it apparent he didn’t know what a ‘drinks compartment’ was and why they need avoid it. The confusion only disappeared when Maxwell poured himself a glass of wine upon making himself comfortable in a corner-most seat.

Alex slipped inside first, then Vlad after him. The inside was a marvel, so clean and futuristic (modern, Alex corrected), and there was even some kind of television mounted on the back-most wall. 

“That’s a television,” he told Vlad, since he was sure the boy was curious. “It’s, hmm… I’m not sure how to explain it in a way that isn’t confusing.” The limousine was starting to pull off the curve, so Alex was hasty in approaching the television to turn it on. There were far more buttons than he was accustomed to seeing on a picture box and it took him several minutes to figure out which one was the power. By the time he had it on, the limousine was hurtling down the street, and Alex was struggling to maintain his footing, finding his way back to Vlad by crawling along the seats. Maxwell watched this display with amusement.

“There,” he said, dropping himself beside Vlad and glancing up at the television, which gave a far more detailed and colourful picture than any other television he’d ever seen. He turned to Vlad as an advertisement began to play.

Vlad’s lips were parted and his eyes wide, fixed on the screen, utterly captivated. Alex couldn’t blame him. Even he, having already experienced television, was captivated by how bright and vivid the picture was. All the television he’d watched had been grainy and monochrome.

“How?” Vlad asked, his voice a gasp. “How do you achieve these things? Boxes that show moving pictures and that… strange thing most honourable Maxwell used to speak to that woman.” He turned sharply to Alex. “I never would have fathomed such things.”

Having no confidence in his ability to adequately explain humanity's advancements, it took several minutes for Alex to come up with an answer. “Ferdinant Lukes has a library,” he said. Better to read up on it than try muddling his way through. He hadn’t been present for the current advancements and he _was_ only ten. A lot of technical language was beyond him. “We’ll read some books. It’s where I spend most of my time, anyway, so I know where everything is.” A pause, and then he corrected himself. “Spent, I mean, so things probably aren't where I remember them being anymore, but I still know how to navigate a library.”

Vlad worried his fingers together. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to read the modern equivalent of your language. Even understanding it spoken has been difficult.”

“I’ll read to you, then,” said Alex, shrugging. It wasn’t uncommon for him to read to the younger children, so it was something he was reasonably good at. He did a lot of reading in general. “I don’t think you’re stupid, if you’re worried about that. It’s not your fault you don’t know.”

“My teachers would disagree,” said Vlad with a smile, like he was making a joke, but Alex didn’t see the humour in it. “I learned quickly, but they were still angry that I didn’t know what they were teaching me in the first place.”

“Well, they’re stupid.” He scoffed. “When I was younger I thought adults were right about everything, but now that I’m ten stuff like that reminds me that they aren’t.”

“Cynical for a ten-year-old,” piqued up Maxwell, his voice wry. “Seems we had more in common as children than I thought.”

A flush rose onto Alex’s cheeks. He couldn’t quite decide if it was from pleasure at being compared to Maxwell or shame at having been overheard criticising adults in front of an adult. “Not all adults, of course,” he murmured, kicking his legs. “Especially if they're Catholic. You're one of the good adults, Your Excellency Maxwell."

Maxwell laughed and resumed drinking his wine. Once certain Maxwell had nothing further to add, Alex continued.

“Anyway, the point is that they’re wrong.” Alex drew Vlad’s hand into his lap, idly stretching his own over it. Vlad’s fingers were slightly thicker than his.

“They just didn’t like me,” said Vlad. “And I didn’t like them.”

“You said you were their prisoner, so I guess it makes sense that they wouldn’t like their prisoners.” Though he wasn’t sure why they were bothering to teach him anything, in that case.

“I preferred it that way,” said Vlad, voice cold. “No matter the repercussions.”

Vlad didn’t elaborate, but Alex suspected that was for the best.

Their attention returned to the television. For the whole of the twenty-minute ride, they found themselves enthralled in a show about a police dog called Rex. The orphanage had never allowed pets, but he'd always liked the strays that would venture near the orphanage. Sometimes he'd taken bowls of water out to them.

As the limousine began to slow, Alex shuffled up to the closest window to peer out. The Ferdinant Lukes of the future wasn’t terribly different from the one he remembered. It had fresher grass, flowers, and paint, but was otherwise the same. Despite having been there recently, there was a sense of coming home after a long journey as Alex left the vehicle to enter the building. Probably an impression created by the enormity of what he’d experienced in the last few hours.

Vlad remained close as they stepped inside, their shoulders periodically brushing. 

Unlike the exterior, the interior of Ferdinant Lukes looked so different that it was startling. It'd been rejuvenated with a fresh layer of paint, new furniture, a reception desk, and colourful decorations, and there were toy boxes around for any children wandering the lobby. Funding must have finally picked up some time after the war. Money had been so scarce when Alex had been a child that there’d barely been anything except the essentials. The walls had been grey, the furniture sparse, and it hadn’t been uncommon for the children to entertain themselves with sticks and mud.

“Alright boys,” said Renaldo. “I’ll escort you two to Alex’s room. Maxwell and I will be waiting for Miss Integra’s arrival outside.”

Alex smiled dropped into a puzzled frown. “But I don’t have a room. All the boys slept in the same area.”

“You live here as an adult, Alex,” Renaldo explained, encouraging Alex and Vlad to move with a hand on their shoulders. “You’re the director of this orphanage, and you do fine work.”

Alex hadn’t dedicated any thought to what he wanted to be as an adult other than priest, so Renaldo’s announcement came as a shock. Director of his orphanage- the more he thought about it, the happier he was with the idea. He had always been good at babysitting duty. It made sense to turn that into a vocation.

“Let’s go,” he told Vlad.

His excitement was dulled somewhat once he saw the room. Not because it wasn’t a nice room, but because it was a terrible mess of books and- chairs? Why did he have chairs everywhere?

“Wow,” said Vlad, simply, which was enough to make Alex’s cheeks turn red. He grabbed a few piles of books and pushed them aside to make a path to the bed.

“I guess the Mother’s attempts to instil cleanliness in me didn’t work,” he muttered, glancing up at Renaldo.

Renaldo chuckled. “Well, this explains why you never let them see your room.” He turned to make his exit. “I need to get going now, but I’ll see you two later. Be good for the Mother's.”

Vlad didn’t answer, but Alex chimed in with a ‘we will!’. He climbed onto his bed, much larger and plush than the one he’d had a child, and made himself comfortable against the headboard, stretching his legs out over the blanket. Vlad joined him, sitting cross legged at his feet.

“Soft,” Vlad murmured, running his hands slowly along the linen. “Much softer than mine.”

“They’re made in a factory,” Alex said. He sunk comfortably into the pillows, tugging his laces free so he could pull off his shoes. Vlad followed suit. “Those are big buildings that mass produce things like blankets and clothes and food.” A lot of those had been making weapons during the war. He used to hear the Mother’s talking about it, how many women had gone off to work in factories once their husbands had left for the front lines. It'd probably been jarring for them to go back to textiles and the like after the end of the war.

“That’s…” Vlad rubbed his heels along the fabric. “I think the word is ‘efficient’? Did I say it right?”

“I think so,” said Alex. Literature was his best subject, to the point that he’d won every spelling contest the orphanage had ever hosted, but he didn’t know _every_ word.

Vlad cast him a smile and crawled across the bed, lowering himself to the blankets with his head in Alex’s lap. Alex shifted to accommodate his weight, spreading his knees until they were pressed to Vlad’s shoulders.

“You have nice hair,” said Alex, idly running his fingers through Vlad’s thick, black locks. Only girls in the orphanage could have long hair here, since lice was occasionally an issue among the boys. To see it on another boy was a novelty. It suited him.

Vlad tilted into the contact. “If God wants something from us, what do you think it might be?” he asked, quite out of the blue.

The question had Alex stumbling. “Um,” he said, scrambling for more time to think. “Well, we… we were made like this together, so maybe he wants us to be friends?”

“We are friends already, are we not?” asked Vlad, with perhaps a touch of concern.

“Yeah! Of course we are!” Alex said. “But better friends, maybe?”

Vlad smiled and began to idly pick at a loose thread on the sheets. “I’d like to be that even if our being changed was merely an accident.”

“So would I,” said Alex. “Did you have friends where you came from or was it all just crotchety adults?”

“I didn’t.” Vlad closed his eyes. “I wasn’t permitted to have friends. You’re the first near my age I’ve spoken to in a while. Other than my brother, of course, but he’s a traitor.”

“A traitor?”

“He’s taken on the faith of our captors. I don’t associate with him anymore.”

“That’s understandable.” There should be no place in a Christian’s heart for heathens or heretics. The Father’s and Mother’s had made that clear.

“I have an older brother, Mircea," Vlad went on. "I haven’t seen him in a long time.”

Frowning, Alex heaved Vlad a little closer, squeezing him to his chest. “Well, you’ve lived a long time, so maybe he has too. Maybe you’ll get to reunite.”

“Maybe,” said Vlad, but his disbelief was clear.

"What was he like?" asked Alex. "Your big brother. Was he nice?"

"He was..." Vlad hummed thoughtfully. "He was an admiral brother, very driven. I envied him for being the preferred candidate for... ascension, but I was also fond of him."

"Ascension?" 

"I'll explain later," said Vlad.

Well, as long as he found out later, Alex wasn't fussed. "Alright."

They fell into a companionable silence and managed to maintain it for a good ten minutes before it was broken by someone slamming their way into the room. Alex jolted upright, almost throwing Vlad off the bed in the process, and turned wide eyes on the intruder. It was a tall, bespectacled woman with long blond hair and, oddly enough, a suit on. A suit traditionally worn by men. Alex didn’t have time to wonder about that, though, since she was quick to make an approach.

Maxwell came hurrying into the room, standing at the door while the woman – Integra, Alex’s mind provided – gawked down at him and Vlad.

“Children,” she said quietly, like it was an immense task to speak at all. She shook her head and set a hand upon her brow, backing up until a pile of books prevented her from retreating any further. “They’re children.”

“You think I’d lie about something this absurd?” asked Maxwell, faintly amused. “The Iscariot laboratories are currently working on how to return them to normal. You’re welcome to take him home, in the mean time-“

“No,” Vlad interrupted, voice loud and firm, just shy of a yell. All eyes turned on him. "I refuse to leave!" 

Alex was quick to join in on the protests. Mostly because he wanted them to stay together too, but also because Vlad's disrespect was going to end up getting them into trouble. Adults hated being spoken down to by children. “Please, can we stay together?” Alex asked, voice shaky. “We’ll sit quietly in here. We won’t be a bother at all.”

Integra pursed her lips and slowly turned around. “Maxwell, you did this on purpose.”

Maxwell scoffed. “Did _what_ on purpose?”

“Turned him against me.” She gestured to the cross sitting on Vlad’s sternum. “You weren’t even subtle about it. Not that I ever expect subtlety from you.”

“He _asked_ for that cross,” said Maxwell. “Am I supposed to deny a twelve-year-old something to provide them comfort because of your insecurities?”

Her teeth were gritted now, eyebrows narrowing her eyes into slits. “If there weren’t children present, I would have some choice words to say to you. But there are, so I’ll simply tell you that in the interest in maintaining our peace treaty, I suggest you make quick work of a solution.” She made a sharp gesture toward the door. “I can call Walter, if need be.”

“The butler?” Maxwell appeared unnerved, despite his wry tone. 

The corners of Integra’s lips twitched into a smile. “You know that isn’t all he is. Iscariot has an expansive file on Hellsing, I’m sure of it.”

The lack of context made the conversation difficult for Alex to follow. Vlad appeared to be listening just as intently as him, though with even less comprehension. Alex, at least, knew vaguely about Iscariot and Hellsing and why they might not like each other. He _shouldn’t_ have known, but the Father’s weren’t always discreet when discussing the organisations. 

So Integra was part of Hellsing, and that meant Vlad had been part of Hellsing too, a Protestant organisation. Protestants and Catholic’s were enemies. But Vlad was wearing a Catholic cross at the moment, so that didn’t really matter.

“There’s no need for that,” said Maxwell, disregarding the threat with a flap of his hand. “I’m just as invested in fixing the situation as you are.”

“And what do you plan to do with them, in the meantime?” asked Integra, casting Alex and Vlad a side-long glance.

Maxwell spread his arms. “I suppose we ought to let them have what they ask for. They want to stay together, so they can, if you permit it. They can remain at Ferdinant Lukes for as long as they need to.” He dropped his hands back to his sides, narrowing his eyes at Integra. “You should be thanking me for my compassion, Integra. I could have turned your dog out into the street and left him to fend for himself.”

Integra glowered at him. “Don’t speak about him like that. He’s currently a child. He doesn’t understand any of this, and nor should he.”

“He’s only a child for the moment.” Maxwell didn’t look at Vlad. Which was probably a good thing, since a flicker of hurt had crossed his features. “Shouldn’t you be pleased? You were just complaining about me ‘turning him against you’ through an act of kindness.”

“That doesn’t mean I want you to be _cruel_ toward him.”

Alex looked down at his knees. He mouthed a protest – that Vlad being a former Protestant didn't matter, that Vlad was his friend, that Vlad wasn't a dog – but he couldn’t bring himself to make them audible while two adults were actively arguing. Instead, he ran his hand up to Vlad’s shoulder. 

“It's more about the lady than you,” he murmured. "He wouldn't have given you that cross if he really thought that about you."

Vlad remained silent, face impassive.

“If you’re worried about me bothering him,” Maxwell continued “You needn’t. I have better things to do than babysit. It’ll be the Mother’s and Father’s job to tend to their needs.”

“Do you have guards posted around the premises?” asked Integra. “They’re in a vulnerable position. I can’t allow him to stay here if I can’t be certain he’ll be safe.”

“I do, but you underestimate how safe this location is.” Maxwell backed up, giving Integra room to make an exit. “We’re on the outskirts of Vatican City. This is one of the most secure places on earth.”

“Do you have any guards?”

Maxwell sighed, his voice quietening as he followed Integra out. “Sister Yumiko and Sister Heinkel are already posted nearby. But this place is safe, like I’ve said. Our enemies don’t venture here and neither should yours.”

“I venture here, and you categorise me as an enemy.”

“Yes, well, your presence here is sanctioned by His Most Holy, so I don't have much-!”

Their voices became too distant to be intelligible, and a moment later, Renaldo stepped through the door with a paper bag in either hand.

“I gather that you’re going to stay here,” he said, and Alex nodded. It took Vlad a second to corroborate with a nod of his own. After Maxwell’s comment, Alex wasn’t surprised by the hesitation.

“All right,” said Renaldo, setting the paper bags by the door. “Let’s get you some dinner and prepare you for bed, then. I expect discussion between Hellsing and Iscariot will last through the night and you don’t need to be awake for that.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick warning for this chapter: Alucard's childhood abuse is a little more explicit in this one.

While he and Vlad were at dinner, the Mother's managed to pack the piles of books onto shelves and surfaces and squeeze a mattress in beside Alex’s bed. They provided Vlad with a soft, plush pillow and a thick winters quilt to sleep with, but those went to waste the moment the Mother's bid them goodnight, since Vlad immediately abandoned his bed in favour of crawling into Alex's. When asked why, Vlad claimed it was ‘for Alex’s protection’. From what, exactly, Alex wasn't sure, but he slept soundly with Vlad’s heartbeat in his ear.

When morning came, they were directed to have breakfast with the other children. Toast, bacon, eggs, oatmeal, and a plastic cup of orange juice was set down in front of them. Alex practically inhaled his food, having been living on scraps during the war, while Vlad ate slowly, savouring the grease of the bacon and licking egg yolk off his fingers. He gave Alex half of his oatmeal, apparently finding it less palatable than the other food.

They went to the library after dinner. It was by far the most heavily renovated area of the orphanage, with every bookshelf, window, and stretch of floor having been replaced, and the study areas enhanced with new furniture and equipment. The back of the library even had a row of desks with televisions on them (computers, Alex would find out later). Alex had never imagined orphans could live so _lavishly_.

“Okay,” said Alex once his awe had diminished enough for him to speak. “I’ll grab some history books and some books about technology. You find somewhere for us to sit.”

Vlad seemed to be taken with the bean bags. He gathered four and shoved them together, sitting on one and using another to prop up his legs. The display made Alex snort. He brought the books over and selected the bean bag next to Vlad, using their spare seat to hold his pile.

“We should read the history first,” he said, opening a thick tome on his lap. The words were small and tightly packed together, intended for a much older age group, but Alex had been reading since the age of four and he didn’t anticipate having any difficulty with them. It’d been a long time since he’d needed to have a dictionary on hand to get through some of the more advanced books.

“What year will you be starting from?” asked Vlad.

“I guess when this kind of technology started showing up,” he said, idling a nail along his jaw. “So early nineteen hundreds.”

Vlad regarded the book thoughtfully. “It took humanity a long time to advance.”

“Yeah,” said Alex, shrugging. “Guess we were too busy killing each other to advance before the twentieth century. Things picked up when we stopped creating so many wars.”

“Sometimes war is necessary,” said Vlad. “But I understand what you mean.”

It was convenient that they both enjoyed academic pursuits, as this meant Alex was able to recite the contents of the book for hours without either of them getting bored. Father Renaldo dropped in with something to eat and drink when noon arrived, just a little sustenance to keep them going through lunch, so they didn't feel any need to move from the library until the dinner bell rang. The library receptionist had them return the bean bags to their original spots before they left.

They sat themselves at the far end of the dining table and Alex fell immediately into conversation with the other children. Vlad, meanwhile, ducked his head and busied himself with his meal. Behaviour that confused Alex, since he’d been so happy to have Alex’s company, but maybe he was shy around groups of people? Alex had known plenty of shy kids, over the years. Vlad hadn't struck him as one, but then, they hadn't known each other long. He would probably start talking in his own time.

The moment Alex gave his name to the other kids - first only, of course - they mentioned that he shared it with the orphanage director, and gee, the hair colour and eyes were the same too, what a funny coincidence! One of them asked if they were related and Alex faltered on his answer, not wanting to lie, but knowing better than to divulge (or try to) that he _was_ the orphanage director. He ended up giving noncommittal shrugs until the topic passed. 

He was sixty to seventy. His actual age. When he really thought about that, considered the implications, it was a thought that made his blood run cold. He had serious responsibilities, he was nearing retirement age, and everyone he'd ever known was old or had left or - well, suffice to say, it was scary to think about _,_ and he had to force the trepidatious parts of adulthood from his mind. There was nothing to be done about them. He couldn't change the reality. And besides, there were good things to look forward to as well, wasn't there? Like being a priest and the director of his own orphanage, or being able to grow facial hair, or going anywhere he wanted and buying anything he wanted. He could even drive a car. He could buy a car, _then_ drive it. With adulthood came freedom, and that was worth looking forward to.

His thoughts were disrupted by Vlad rising out of his chair. Alex shot up after him, gathering his cutlery to add to the cleaning bin.

"What do you wanna do now?" he asked, hurrying to walk at Vlad's side.

Vlad shrugged. "You know this place better than me. What is there to do?"

"Lets..." Alex paused, considering their options. "Lets play Briscola." Not the most compelling of activities, but a pack of cards was easy to get ones hands on and was likely to be something they'd both encountered before. A low effort activity. 

They detoured to the recreational area for a pack of cards before retiring to Alex's room, where Alex proceeded to teach Vlad how to play Briscola and beat him in four out of six games. Vlad didn't appear terribly put out despite his losing streak. He took the losses gracefully.

“I still don’t understand it,” said Vlad as they played. “Technology. I don’t understand how all these wires and things make televisions and telecones-“

“Phones.”

“Telephones work.”

“I’m not sure either,” Alex admitted. “But most people don’t know anyway. They just see wires making a television work and think ‘yes, that makes sense’.” He turned his card over, unveiling a three. Vlad unveiled a jack and Alex grinned, taking his reward. “I guess we could dig out some books about how exactly everything works, but history’s more fun.”

“I don’t need to know the smaller details,” Vlad agreed. “I’m more interested in history as well. Once we’ve covered the history of technology, maybe we could…” He hesitated on his next words. “Actually, I think I… I’d like to try reading some books on my own, but I’ll need a book for Romanian to Italian. Does the library have something like that?”

“A dictionary, you mean,” said Alex. “Yeah, they’ll have that.” The orphanages resources on language had always been extensive, and no doubt they'd expanded their language resources even further since the forties. There had to be some Romanian language books in there somewhere.

“Later, though,” said Vlad. “I want to finish reading about technology first.” He won the next round and smiled, setting his won cards onto his pile. He was improving, slowly but steadily. “I still have many questions.”

“So do I,” said Alex. “We'll probably have just as many when we're finished, though.”

* * *

Life in Ferdinant Lukes was easy to adapt to, and their days passed slowly and uneventfully. They ate breakfast and dinner with the other kids and spent the bulk of their free time in the library, devouring the contents of their pile of borrowed books. They were getting through them in record speed. Their shared enthusiasm could keep them going at it for the entire day.

Vlad still refused to speak to the other children during meals, and Alex gave up on trying to encourage Vlad to socialise after the third day of Vlad burying his attention in his food. Other than that, little of note had occurred. They were, for all intents and purposes, just two residents of Ferdinant Lukes. They blended in. Not perfectly, but enough that it was easy to overlook the few things about them that stood out. Things like Vlad’s reticence, Alex’s interest in knives, the fact they never left each others side, and the fact they would periodically be visited by adults whom the other orphanage residents had never seen before.

When they finished covering the history of technology, which took a good few days, they decided to take a break from the library. They had, after all, spent almost an entire week in there. 

“Let’s sit outside,” suggested Vlad. Alex didn’t see any reason to refuse. He had only received a glimpse of the orphanage grounds and he was eager to get a better look.

They found themselves a nice, tall tree to sit under and Vlad dropped down at the base of its trunk, while Alex stretched out over a soft, springy patch of grass. He wanted to watch the clouds drift over the roof of the orphanage. He didn’t care that there were probably insects crawling into his hair. During summer insects had often invaded the orphanage, and he’d become accustomed to them.

Once they'd made themselves comfortable, Alex didn't hesitate to bring up a subject that had been bothering him all week. “Do you not like the other kids?” he asked. Or blurted out, rather. “It’s okay if you don’t. I’m just wondering since you don’t talk to them.”

Vlad closed his eyes and slumped back into the tree, taking a deep breath of the cool evening air before answering. “Why would I bother?" he said. "This is temporary. You’re all I need until we get back to normal.”

“It’s okay to be friendly,” said Alex. “Even if this is temporary.”

“I don’t care. I don’t want to be their friend.”

Alex made a disapproving sound. “Then why’re you _my_ friend? If it’s temporary, why bother with me either?”

Vlad appeared taken aback with the question. He peeled open one eye to look down at Alex. “Because I like you," he said. "And I like your company.”

“You could like theirs as well.”

“Their company isn’t yours. You aren’t like them," said Vlad. "You’re special.”

Alex frowned and tilted his head back, looking up at Vlad as best he could manage. “No, I’m not.”

“To me, you are,” said Vlad. Alex had said something similar to him a few days ago, so he could hardly argue. “Listen, even if our meeting wasn't meant to end like this, if there was anything intended at all, I still think you're special, and that we were meant to be friends, and I’m still…” He pursed his lips in thought for a moment before continuing. “I'm not sure I'm explaining myself well, but you were nice to me even when you didn’t know me, and after you knew me too, and I like you and I’m glad it’s you I’m with.”

“Oh.” Despite his initial protests, being special to someone was a nice feeling. Alex rolled onto his side and indulged in a private smile. “I-I'm glad to be with you too.” Not as verbose as Vlad's remarks, but he suspected Vlad had only been so long-winded because he wasn't fluent enough in Italian to be concise. 

“Thank you." Vlad smiled warmly. “I think we might not have liked each other, when we were adults, but we will be friends when we turn back now.”

Alex’s tone turned fierce, full of conviction. “Of course! You can hold me to that!” He valued loyalty, and as far as he was concerned, there was nothing that could make him forfeit Vlad as a friend. 

“Can I?” Vlad’s smile turned wry. He reached over to neaten Alex’s hair, brushing dirt and insects out of it, then moved his leg so Alex’s head was propped up on it. “In Romania, I am actually a prince-”

“A prince!?” Alex balked. That was one hell of a curve ball.

“Yes,” said Vlad, dismissive. “It shouldn't be that surprising. Royalty still exists in this age. You mentioned the Queen of England in one of those books, and Italy still had a king when you were born.”

Alex got some of his spluttering out of the way before he responded, so he'd actually be intelligible. “Yes, but- meeting a prince is a big deal." He was surprised Vlad hadn’t mentioned it earlier. It seemed like the sort of thing you'd announce during a first meeting. “I don’t know how you can call _me_ special when you’re a _prince_. That’s just…” Alex didn’t know how to proceed, so he closed his mouth with an audible clack of teeth and looked expectantly up at Vlad.

“I was a _captive_ prince," Vlad resumed. There was a note of self-deprecation in his voice. “If I had ever been special, the Sultan made sure I wasn’t anymore. He made my new position clear. But-” He shook his head, shaggy hair flying. “Let’s not get into that. I don’t want to talk about the Sultan.”

Alex had to bite back the questions on the tip of his tongue, forcing himself to nod instead. He'd been curious for a while now about what Sultan Vlad was referring to and why they’d kept Vlad prisoner, but he wouldn’t make Vlad talk about something he didn’t want to.

“So, it sounded like you were leading up to something…?”

“I was,” said Vlad. He smoothed his fingers over the crown of Alex's head. “Princes can have concubines. That’s someone who lives with the prince and keeps them company, usually alongside a wife, and I want you as a concubine.” A pause, and then, “When we're adults, I mean. I think only adults can have concubines.”

Alex considered the word ‘concubine’. He knew what it was. He'd seen it in the bible. A relationship between a man and a woman, but if it was being applied to a man and another man… that had to be different, didn’t it? Since men couldn’t do the same things as a man and a woman. They could only enact the companionship part, and Alex liked that idea, being Vlad’s companion. 

Alex grinned. “Do you have a wife? People got married young back then, didn’t they?”

“One hadn’t been arranged for me, no,” said Vlad. “If I ever did have one, they’d be long dead. So I just have you now.” He smiled brightly. “And that’s fine. I’m happy with just you.”

“You won’t get bored of me?” asked Alex, faintly teasing. A little serious as well, though.

“Definitely not,” said Vlad. “That’s why I want you to be my concubine when we’re adults. That means you’ll be with me always, even if I ever get married.”

“Is there some kind of ceremony?” asked Alex, already envisioning an extravagant sort of party. Like for one’s birthday, but with a companionship theme. And lots of balloons. Alex loved balloons. “That’d be cool,” he murmured, lost in his imagination.

Vlad gave this some thought, chewing on his bottom lip. Then, finally, he said, “I could give you a piece of jewellery to signify that you belong to me. What type would you like?”

A little disappointing, but Alex did like jewellery. Christian themed especially. He never went anywhere without his cross. “How about a new cross? Or some, um… cufflinks! That’s what they’re called. Sometimes I wear those when I go to church, if I’m just sitting instead of singing in the choir or helping the Father.” He picked at the grass as he listed off potentials. “Or maybe a ring, or a bracelet. I don’t know. I’ll like anything you get me.”

Vlad laughed, soft and warm. He didn’t laugh often and Alex found it endearing when he did. “What metal, then? And jewels? I think emeralds would look nice on you.”

“No jewels,” Alex insisted. Only girls wore things with jewels in them. He didn’t want to get teased, even if he did think emeralds would look nice. “I like silver. It’ll be cheaper than jewels and gold, anyway.”

“I’m not worried about money,” said Vlad. “I am a prince. I’m sure I’ve maintained some of my wealth, even if it’s been… been a long time.” A furrow appeared between his eyebrows, like he wasn’t quite sure. He didn't dwell on the subject. “I’ll get you something silver, then. Without jewels. And maybe it'll be a cross.”

“Could we have some cake, too?”

“Cake?”

“People have cake for all sorts of celebrations.” Alex licked his lips. Cake had been a rare treat as a child and he was salivating at the thought of getting a moist, chocolatey slice for the first time in _years_. Most of the time, they hadn’t even been able to scrounge up a cake for children’s birthdays (though, to be fair, there were a lot of birthdays to celebrate every year). “I can live without a party, but there has to be cake,” he said. “Chocolate, with cream and strawberries on top and inside.”

Slowly, Vlad tilted his head. “You’ll have to show me pictures. I only know of honey cakes and fruit cakes.”

“Fruit cakes.” Alex poked out his tongue with a grimace. “No one likes those.”

“I like them,” said Vlad, a little affronted.

“That’s because you haven’t tasted chocolate cake yet. You don’t have a good frame of reference.”

“Or it could just be my preference.”

Alex twisted his lips. “No, it’s definitely because you have a bad frame of reference.”

Vlad rolled his eyes and plucked some grass up from the earth, dropping it on Alex’s face, who spluttered and shook it off. “You’ve never eaten grass before, so maybe you’d like it if you tried.”

“That is _not_ the same thing!” cried Alex. He threw a clump of dirt at Vlad, watching with satisfaction as it struck his cheek and slid down into his shirt. Vlad looked utterly affronted. How appropriate of a prince.

"Oh," said Vlad, fisting his hands into the grass. "You're going to regret that."

As young boys were wont to do, they ended up getting into a short tussle among the dirt and grass, both attempting to shove as much earth into the others clothes as possible. Once they’d exhausted themselves and decimated the patch of grass they were lounging upon, they carried their dirty, dishevelled selves through the gardens and toward the outskirts of the orphanage grounds. There was a church a short walk from the main building. Vlad wanted to have a look at it before Sunday mass, while it wasn't full of people. Alex was equally as enthusiastic since he was sure the building had been renovated just like the rest of Ferdinant Lukes.

The church had remained open throughout the day when Alex had been a boy, and that seemed to remain the case, since the door swung open when Alex ventured to press on it. It revealed a very clean, empty church, far brighter and well-decorated than the one that occupied Alex’s memories. Everything was brighter in the future. 

He ran his fingers over the pews as he passed them, so clean his fingers didn’t pick up even a slither of dust. Alex wondered if it was _he_ who had kept the church so spotless, and he hoped so. It brought him pride to think he maintained his church so well.

“A fine place to serve God,” he murmured as they came to a stop before the alter. He swept his eyes over the marble of the platform and to the candles surrounding it in a crescent, all currently unlit. There had to be at least forty of them. A gold and intricately decorated cross sat in the middle of the platform and statues of the saints had been arranged just behind it on pedestals, the tallest of which Jesus himself occupied. Alex looked up at the statue of Jesus, examining the empty, marble eyes, and he swallowed hard at the profound sensation of being _seen_. If Vlad noticed his unease, he didn't comment on it.

“How different is it?” asked Vlad.

“Very,” said Alex, his voice soft. “It was still nice-looking decades ago, but not this nice.”

“Did you visit often? Outside of Sunday worship, I mean.”

“When I felt the need to.” He had made use of the confessional box a few times. Talked about fights he’d gotten into, his interest in knives, and his bitter, malicious thoughts. The priests had always assured him he was normal and that these things didn’t make him a bad person. After all, they were good qualities to have if directed at the appropriate people.

He wrenched his attention from the statue to approach the pews, sitting down in the front row. Vlad joined him a short while later.

“What about you?” he asked, glancing at Vlad. “Did you visit church often?”

“No, not terribly often,” Vlad admitted. “Not as often as I should have. I was busy when I wasn't in the Sultan's care. Being prepared to ascend and all.”

It was still jarring to remember that Vlad was a prince. It was an easy thing to slip ones mind after attempting to shove dirt down their clothes. “That makes sense," he said, which was true on a superficial level, at least. There wasn't much sense to be found if one went into more depth. He regarded Vlad curiously. “I know there’s a lot more interesting things you could talk about, but what were your parents like? I mean, they were royalty… what's it like growing up in a royal family? Were they nice, or…?”

“My mother was.” Vlad gently swung his legs, looking up at the stained glass windows lining the walls. A beautiful depiction of Saint Mary bore down at them from their left and lit them up in shades of red and yellow and green and blue. “My father was… not a bad parent," he continued. "But he left me and Radu to the Ottoman’s as prisoners so my older brother could remain on the throne. I don’t hate him, but it feels a great betrayal and I’ve only just now come around to accepting that maybe it was necessary. Maybe you have to do these thing sometimes to maintain power.” Vlad fell briefly silent. Alex didn't interrupt him, waiting patiently until he resumed speaking. “But my mother, she was a most kind and intelligent woman and I enjoyed being with her and her friends, even if she was often busy.” His expression turned nostalgic. “My mother wasn’t my only caretaker. I used to have a lot when I was a boy, and they would always fuss over me and tell me what a fine young man I was growing into. All my caretakers liked me. Not as much as Radu, but they still liked me and I liked them. I was always sad when they went away.”

“Did they go away often?” asked Alex.

“Sometimes every few years one would leave the family, sometimes every year. Sometimes after a month or two, if they displeased my father or mother. I used to think of making them stay somehow… but I never did come up with a feasible plan for that.” He smiled sadly. “Once I was captured, I didn’t have to worry about losing them anymore. I figured I would be killed eventually.”

Alex gave Vlad's fingers a sympathetic squeeze. “That must have been terrifying.”

“It was,” said Vlad, voice quiet. “And I… I don’t think they’re- or they were... I don’t think they were around anymore for me to go back to anyway, if the Sultan ever saw fit to release me. When my brother and I were taken prisoner, they took my mother and the other madams and-” He opened his mouth and then closed it again, lips trembling.

Being an orphan, that was a familiar expression, one Alex had often needed to soothe with new arrivals from the war. He leaned over and wrapped his arms around Vlad, drawing him close, chin on the crown of his head. Vlad breaths turned hitching as he buried his face in Alex’s chest.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice hoarse. “I’m being childish. I shouldn’t- I shouldn’t-”

“It’s okay,” Alex murmured, squeezing Vlad tight. “It’s okay to cry about something like this.”

It was a long time before they left the church.

* * *

By their second week at Ferdinant Lukes, little progress had been made on fixing their predicament. Their case was a priority at the Vatican laboratories and in the most capable hands available, but one couldn't rush researching a holy relic. According to Renaldo, they'd acquired a Nail of Helena a few years prior and it had taken them _months_ to figure out what exactly it did. Even then, they weren't aware of the full extent of its power, because without actually utilising a holy relic - which was, for obvious reasons, something they tried to avoid doing - there was only so much an investigation could unveil.

Neither Alex nor Vlad minded the wait. They were enjoying being kids in the modern era, and Vlad was catching onto reading Italian so fast that it seemed a shame to stop him now. 

“If you know how to speak it, why don’t you know how to read it, anyway?” asked Alex while in the middle of demonstrating Italian sentence structure. He hadn't thought to ask earlier. "Usually you learn reading, writing and speaking a language at the same time."

“Being able to speak a language is considered more important than being able to read it,” said Vlad, running his finger over Alex's neat script. “Books are not so plentiful during my time, though my tutor did gather as many resources as he could. He was a very old, stubborn knight who could get his hands on just about anything.”

“Oh.” Alex leaned his chin on his hand, watching Vlad carefully write out his own sentence in pencil. “You seem to like reading for someone who didn’t have access to a lot of books.”

“I read everything I could get my hands on before being taken prisoner.”

“What did you do as a prisoner, then?”

Vlad's answer came a little too casually for what it was. “I involved myself in the art of combat and war and methods of maintaining ones leadership, so one day I might fell my enemies and take back my kingdom.” 

He should have expected that, really. By now, he knew that Vlad was very revenge orientated, and he couldn’t fault him for it after hearing of the atrocities he’d experienced. Alex himself often had such thoughts about those who wronged him, but he made a greater effort to stifle them.

“I imagine swords have fallen out of favour, so what do they teach here?” asked Vlad. “Guns?”

“Yeah,” said Alex. “But not to kids. Only adults can learn how to use guns.”

“At what age are you considered an adult here?”

“Uhm…" He chewed on the end of his pencil as he thought. "Well, you have to be at least seventeen to enlist in the army, and eighteen to actually go to war, so I guess eighteen.” He knew because he’d read it in a newspaper, one of the ones the Father’s kept in the staff room. Sometimes he had done the dishes in there.

Vlad scoffed. “That’s too old. Far too old.”

“We don’t war as much as we used to,” said Alex, flippant. There would have been way more than two world wars if they did fight like they had in medieval times. “Or as close, I think. We've gotten better at killing people from a distance and fast instead of just, you know... land battle. We can use bombs and planes and guns.” After a moments thought, he added, "Oh, and we do a lot of trade with each other now, so most people don't want war." His Geography teacher had said as much.

"We did trade when I was a boy too," said Vlad, huffing. "We weren't barbarians."

"I know that," said Alex. "There's just even more trade, because we have planes, and trains, and trucks to transport stuff." There were probably other forms of modern transport, but Alex couldn't think of anything else. He took the stripped end of his pencil out of his mouth and idly corrected a mistake in Vlad's sentence. "I bet it takes a lot longer for someone to die from being stabbed than shot with a gun, huh?"

Sighing, Vlad re-wrote the sentence beneath his incorrect one. “It can take a while, yes,” said Vlad, and Alex had to wonder if that meant he’d seen someone die via sword. “So you’ve never used a weapon?”

Alex hesitated before providing an answer. It wasn’t because he didn’t trust Vlad not to go divulging his secret to other people, but because his interest in knives seemed pitiful next to Vlad’s genuine swordsmanship. “I do like…” He chewed a little patch of skin off his bottom lip.

“Go on,” encouraged Vlad.

“Knifes,” he forced out, cheeks colouring. “They’re not as cool as swords, I know.”

To his great relief, Vlad displayed no contempt for his interest. He leaned out of his seat to close the distance between them, clearly intrigued. “Those are a good start. I’ve been taught to wield a knife as well.” He put the pencil aside. “You’re teaching me so much, so perhaps I could repay you with some combat lessons.”

A surge of excitement had Alex’s face flushing again. “Really? You’d teach me-?” And then he deflated, shoulders drooping. He dropped his chin (dramatically) to the desk. “Oh, but I don’t have a knife. My last one was confiscated by Mother De Luca.” Who wasn't around to scold him anymore, but he didn't feel glad of that at all. He pushed the thought from his mind. "'Course, even if she hadn't, I wouldn't have it here anymore anyway."

Vlad wasn’t deterred. “We’ll get another one,” he said. “Tell me where they are and I’ll help retrieve a knife for you.”

“But it’s against the rules,” said Alex miserably. “The Mother’s would be mad if they saw I had one.” And he loathed to get another belting. His first had been humiliating enough.

“Then we won’t let them see us,” said Vlad. “I’m good at keeping secrets. I kept many while living among the Ottoman’s. You can trust me, Alex.”

Alex agreed with that assessment, strongly. But he was still hesitant. “I don’t know. It’s breaking the rules, and that’s a sin, right?”

“Learning to protect yourself isn’t a sin," Vlad argued. "Everyone deserves to be able to do that. Especially children, because you can't always trust adults to look after you.”

Not only was that a good point, but it was being said by someone with the world experience to back it up. He'd been kidnapped at the age of twelve- or younger, even. He knew better than most that children needed to be able to protect themselves.

Sighing, Alex dragged himself upright. “If I get in trouble," he said. "You’re going down with me."

Vlad’s smiled wide, displaying a slither of white teeth. “I accept those terms. Now, where might we get a knife?”

Sneaking into the kitchen proved much easier than anticipated. Come nightfall, they crept out of Alex’s bedroom, down the hall, and slipped into the vacant kitchen to rifle through the drawers. Vlad selected the longest, most sturdy knife he could find and hid it under his pyjamas, hurrying back down the hallway. Alex spent the entire journey back worried Vlad would trip and end up impaling himself, but they reached Alex’s room without incident.

The first thing Vlad did was ask him how he held a knife. He wrapped his fingers around the handle, the curve of the blade pointed toward himself, and looked to Vlad for feedback. Vlad outright laughed at his display.

“You’re holding it like you intend to stab yourself,” he said, much to Alex’s embarrassment.

“This worked fine when I used it,” he said, huffing. “I could dig it really deep into a tree.”

“But a tree won’t be your opponent if you're attacked,” said Vlad. He stepped close and manually unfurled Alex’s fingers, adjusting the knife within them, setting Alex’s thumb over the flat of the blade. “And all the weakest points are further up. You need to hold it in a way that enables you to stab up, if you need to.”

“Do you think I’ll ever need to stab someone?” he asked, not as concerned as he perhaps should be. Guns frightened him, but knives were more familiar, comfortable. Maybe their not having much presence in the war made a difference. He’d heard of plenty of deaths through bullets, but few through use of blades.

“We’ll see.”

Not the most reassuring of answers.

“Would you stab someone, if you needed to?” asked Vlad while adjusting Alex’s stance, nudging his legs apart and moving his arms into the appropriate position.

“Like a burglar or something?”

“Yes.”

“A burglar might have a gun. Maybe if I caught them unaware…”

“You would stab them, then?” Vlad stepped back, giving Alex an appraising look. “Where?”

“Um.” Alex glanced down at himself, seeking the most vulnerable place he could think of. The heart seemed a good bet. He raised a hand over his chest, tapping the left of his rib cage. Just a little off-centre. “Here.”

Vlad cocked his eyebrows. “You’re going to stab through the rib cage?”

He hadn’t thought of that, how difficult it would be to reach the heart through the bones. Granted, that wasn’t something that would generally occur to one his age, who’d little reason to know these things.

“How about here, then,” he suggested, gesturing to his neck. Surely that was an acceptable target.

Vlad shook his head. “How will you reach that if they’re taller than you? You’re ten. Be realistic.”

This wasn’t going as smoothly as he had anticipated. Flustered, Alex looked down at himself again. “The stomach?” he said tentatively.

“Where exactly?”

Alex floundered. “The… the stomach. Where food goes.”

Vlad rolled his eyes. “The advancements to medicine suggest one can survive that. But here-“ He pressed two fingers just below Alex’s sternum, over his liver. “And here-“ He moved his fingers down to the back of Alex’s knee, pressing hard against a throbbing vein Alex hadn’t previously known was there. “Men often fall quickly when a blade is applied to these areas.” He stood back up and retreated a step. “Once you’re taller and stronger, you can aim for areas with a greater chance of instant mortality. For now, focus on areas that won’t be too difficult to reach.”

That sounded reasonable advice. It could have been imparted in a gentler way, but it was over and done with, no point in complaining now. 

They didn’t finish the lesson until the early hours of the morning, at which point Alex was fighting against drooping eyes and periodic yawns. He’d learnt the essentials: how to hold the knife, how to thrust it, where to aim, and they could build upon that the following night. It would have to be a shorter lesson than their first, because Alex didn’t fancy the exhaustion of two sleepless nights.

He crawled into bed the moment Vlad indicated he could, propped his head up on Vlad’s chest, and promptly fell asleep.

* * *

At the end of their third week, a man by the name of Walter came by Ferdinant Lukes to escort them to the Vatican Laboratories. For testing, he told them; just a few, harmless tests the scientists hoped would expedite a solution. Alex trusted the Vatican to do only what was in their best interests, but Vlad looked wary at giving himself over to people who wanted to prod and poke at him. He always looked wary when confronted with adults, so Alex was used to it, and he was able to soothe him by guiding Vlad's fingers to wrap around the cross the Archbishop had gifted him. He treated it as a sort of good luck charm at this point.

Walter identified himself as a butler while leading them to his car, and Alex was fervent in asking what being a butler was like, if he enjoyed it, who else he had been a butler for, and why so many butlers had monocles. The butlers he'd encountered in stories had always seemed whimsical people. Subdued, dignified, but whimsical all the same, and he was eager to hear if real butlers lived up to their fictitious counterparts. Walter seemed a touch taken aback by his enthusiasm, but he still threw out a few answers on their way to his car. 

Butlers, it turned out, weren't actually all that interesting.

The vehicle Walter drove wasn't a limousine. It was just a small, black car with tinted windows. He and Vlad slipped into the back and Alex reached across the middle seat to pull on Vlad's seat belt, since Vlad wouldn’t know what it was. Walter watched them in the rear-view mirror.

“You two seem to be close,” he observed as he turned the ignition, twisting the wheel toward the street.

“We’re friends,” said Alex. He pulled on his own seat belt, casting a merry smile at Walter. “Vlad’s my best friend.”

Vlad stared morosely out the window, as was his wont. “We enjoy each other’s company,” he murmured, clearly unenthused at the prospect of conversation.

“I’m glad to hear it.” Walter made a faintly amused sound. “Strange situations make for odd bedfellows. I never imagined you two would get along under any circumstances.”

“That’s probably because we worked with people who don’t like each other,” said Alex with a shrug. He knew sometimes adults had to dislike other adults just because it was what their superior wanted. “I guess because of the Protestant and Catholic thing, but Vlad is Catholic now, so it doesn’t really matter.”

“Would you like him if he wasn’t Catholic?” They pulled off into the street and joined traffic. The early morning rush had just started, so it promised to be a long journey.

“Yes,” said Alex, with confidence.

“And you, Vlad- you would like him if he didn’t share your religion?”

“Of course I would.”

Walter chuckled. “Well, I’m glad to hear it,” he said. “It would be convenient if you maintained this as adults. It’d make those treaty terms easier to uphold.”

‘Peace treaty’; Alex remembered Integra mentioning that. He thought it silly that they should need one. Protestantism was an affront to Catholic belief, but there were more important forces to fight than each other, surely? Like monsters and cults.

“We’ve already made a promise to remain friends as adults,” Alex explained. He joined Vlad in watching the traffic as he spoke, leaning over Vlad's shoulder. “His excellency Maxwell and Miss Integra-“ It seemed important to use their titles in front of another adult. “-Might not like it, since they don’t seem to like each other, but when you’re an adult… you can do what you want, right? As long as it isn’t a sin, or illegal?”

“That’s one way to look at it,” Walter agreed, chuckling. “A smart way, I’d say.”

“Thank you,” said Alex brightly.

Rolling his eyes, Vlad reached back and swiped his hand through Alex’s hair, making a mess of it. “You’re so talkative, Alex." It wasn’t admonishing, just amused.

“And you aren’t, young master,” Walter piqued in. “Quite the opposite of what you are as an adult, when you have the opportunity to chat.”

Vlad turned to eye Walter in the rear-view mirror. “I don’t have a lot to say.”

“I’m sure if you thought about it, you would,” said Walter, his smile sharp in the corners. Not unpleasantly, but not pleasantly, either. It was a strange smile and it dropped away as he continued. “You’re quite a bit more interesting than us common rabble.”

After some minutes of silence, Vlad turned his attention back to the window. “Were we friends, Sir Walter? When I was an adult.”

Alex was just as curious as Vlad to hear the answer. It didn’t sound as though Vlad had many companions as an adult, and privately, he kind of liked that. He liked the idea that _he_ would continue to be the most important person in Vlad’s life once they recovered their adult bodies.

Walter made a thoughtful sound. “You liked to say we were, but colleagues would be more accurate.” He lightly drummed the wheel with his fingers. “Neither of us were the kind to maintain friendships, you could say. We were work orientated.”

“What sort of work did I do?” asked Vlad.

The drumming of Walter’s fingers paused. “That’s… not an easy question to answer, I'm afraid. You’ll remember when you’re older.” He recovered the small, warm smile from earlier and directed it over his shoulder. “Why don’t I take you two out to eat after this? As many times as I’ve been here, I haven’t had the opportunity to enjoy Italian street food.”

Despite Vlad being visibly disappointed by Walter’s answer, neither of them declined the suggestion. There was nothing to oppose in free food and an opportunity to explore the city. If they ventured far enough, they might even get to see some of Italy’s monuments.

The Vatican was, as it had been the first time Alex had seen it, packed with people. Tourists, most likely. A lot of them were wearing sunglasses and khakis, while a smattering were in more conservative clothing and wielding bibles. He expected Vatican City attracted the religious and non-religious alike, being as stunning a location as it was.

They parked somewhere out of the way and trudged their way inside. Or rather, Walter escorted them to the door, handed them to some scientists, and told them he would be patiently awaiting their return. As they walked into the cool, sterile laboratories of the Vatican, the man and woman acting as their guide explained they hadn’t yet uncovered a solution to their predicament, but they had figured out how one should handle the veil to prevent inadvertent use, and this was a step in the right direction. The tests they were going to perform were just to gather biological information. 

He and Vlad were given gowns to change into and made to lie down in a big, buzzing machine that made the tips of Alex’s fingers and toes tingle. After this, they had some DNA samples taken, and then they were made to run on a treadmill with wires stuck to their temples, chest, and back. These were strange and somewhat frightening activities, but not so unpleasant that Alex tried to resist at any point. Vlad protested the removal of the part of the gown that covered his back for the treadmill test, but conceded after some quiet words with a staff member. It occurred to him as the covering slipped away that Vlad had been careful to never show Alex his naked back then they'd been nude, and Alex understood why the moment it was visible. The entirety of his back, from shoulders to the small of his spine, was covered in scars. The sort of scars one revived from violent whippings. A surge of anger twisted in his gut and he hastily diverted his gaze, hands fisted and white-knuckled. 

The rest of the morning proceeded without interruption. Once finished, they were sat down in a waiting room and given a cookie, a glass of orange juice, and a chicken salad sandwich. Alex didn’t ask about Vlad's scars. The source of them was obvious, and so was Vlad's desire for privacy.

Walter was, as he’d promised, waiting for them outside when they were escorted out of the laboratories. He had a milkshake in either hand, which he extended to them once they were close enough. Alex took the strawberry, while Vlad took the chocolate. Or rather, Alex let Vlad take the chocolate so he could be introduced to it. Judging by his expression as he sucked his cup dry, he was a fan.

“How did you find the laboratories?” asked Walter.

Alex glanced back at the door they’d come from. “Just seemed like a hospital to me. A really futuristic one, which is just modern for this time.”

Vlad’s answer was quite different. “The strangest place I’ve seen yet. I don’t know what they were trying to achieve with what they were doing. They wouldn’t explain in detail, either.”

“Would you have understood even if they had?” asked Walter. He gestured them toward the car.

“I suppose not,” Vlad conceded.

“I thought we were going to get street food,” mumbled Alex as he climbed into the back of Walter’s vehicle. He pulled on his belt. Vlad didn’t need help with his, this time.

“We have to leave this area to do that,” Walter explained, slipping into the driver’s seat. He turned the ignition once Vlad had shut the door. “We don’t want to inconvenience the Vatican staff by leaving a vehicle in one of their parks while we wander around, now do we? I’ll park us in a side street.”

It didn’t take them long to find somewhere appropriate to leave the car. There was a small, packed street a little ways from the Vatican and they managed to squeeze into the only remaining space. There were multiple vendors on the street across from them, which explained the popularity of the area. Alex eagerly approached one selling supplì. Walter bought them each a small cupful.

“Thank you, Mr. Dornez,” chirped Alex. He’d been taught to always say please and thank you after receiving a gift. Vlad too, as he nodded his head in appreciation and thanked Walter for his kindness. 

“Just Walter will be fine.” He ushered them along to the next row of vendors while they ate their supplì, directing them to dessert orientated carts.

Timiratsu, cannoli, and gelato were on offer between two carts, and Alex spent a considerable amount of time umming and aahing over what one he wanted, tasting samples of each between bites of his rice balls. Vlad, on the other hand, was quick to select dark chocolate flavoured gelato, which he ate with gusto. He was going to love it when Alex introduced him to chocolate cake.

After several minutes and Walter standing patiently off to the side, nibbling idly at a cup of mango gelato, Alex selected a cannoli and proceeded to demolish it in a few bites. So Walter bought him another one, which he ate slower. In his defence – and Vlad’s too, since they were both behaving like gluttons – neither of them had indulged in sweets often. Not sweets of this quality, anyway, since Vlad did mention having access to honey cake and fruit cake.

Some of the food they bought, they packed away for later. After the sandwich and cookie provided by the laboratory, there was only so much they could eat. And anyway, it would be nice to have something to nibble on throughout the following days.

Alex was thoroughly full as he crawled back into Walter’s car, stomach bulging against his waistband. The fullness left him drowsy. He licked his lips and closed his eyes, leaning his head against the window. This was the most he’d been full in… well, he wasn’t actually sure he’d _ever_ been this full before. He only remembered being hungry, growing up.

Vlad dropped heavily into the seat beside him, similarly tired. The drive back to the orphanage was done in a companionable silence. They bid Walter farewell at the door, then ambled their way to the library for a leisurely afternoon of language study. This seemed a good time to teach Vlad how to speak and write some slang words and phrases.

It wasn’t until night fell that they regained some vitality. A necessary element of their nightly lessons in knife combat. Despite it only having been a few days since Alex’s first lesson, he had improved considerably since then. Vlad called him a natural. Was so impressed, in fact, that he snuck a log from the yard for Alex to demonstrate his ability on. He sat close and watched with wide, keen eyes while Alex repeatedly slammed the knife into the log, wedging it a good quarter of the way through after his third assault. A fine effort, if he did say so himself.

Once Alex had finished his display, Vlad sat back on the heels of his hands with a broad, toothy smile. The excitement radiating off him was almost palpable.

“Alex,” he murmured, voice loud in the otherwise silent room. “Have you ever seen someone die?”

Startled by this question, Alex jerked his head around to face him. “What do you mean?”

“Have you ever seen someone die,” Vlad repeated. “In a war, or by accident. Have you seen _anything_ die?”

Alex carefully dislodged the knife from the log, setting it aside. He sat back on his knees. “No.”

“Have you ever wanted to?”

“I-“ Alex ran a hand through his sweaty hair, sending it sprawling over his face. “I mean, sometimes. When I’m angry. But everyone has those thoughts. That’s what the Father’s tell me.”

“They’re right,” said Vlad. “I’ve seen people die, Alex. Lots of times.”

“O-oh.” Alex swallowed thickly and dropped his hand back into his lap. This was a strange, unsettling topic, and he didn’t quite know how to traverse it. “I’m sorry?”

“You don’t need to apologise.” Vlad waved a hand in dismissal of Alex’s sympathies. “There was a scaffold for death sentences near my house. Sometimes I would watch from the window when people were killed. It was mostly hangings, but sometimes they would be burnt, or beheaded, or sawed in half.”

Alex wasn’t able to accurately visualise just what horrors Vlad had been exposed to, but his mind tried to accommodate the images all the same, displaying flashes of men screaming and crying and writhing as flames engulfed them. He swallowed again, throat tight.

Vlad licked his teeth. “Sometimes… sometimes I think about doing to my enemies what was done to them. They’re bad people, so they would deserve it.” He picked at the splintered log with a finger. “And sometimes I…”

Vlad trailed off, gesturing for Alex to come closer. Alex scooched across the floor despite his misgivings with the topic.

“Alex,” he said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Have you ever thought about hurting someone you care about? Not until they’re dead, but… hurting them?”

Alex's heart thumped against his rib cage, his breath whistling out of a too-tight throat. The fine hairs on the nape of his neck and arms stood on end. “I… I only think that about bad people.” He spoke in a whisper. He had to muster up courage before continuing. “Do you think about hurting me?”

“Yes,” said Vlad, and the calmness of it made Alex shiver. “But not until you’re older, and I would comfort you after.”

Alex drew in a sharp breath. “Comfort me?”

“So you know I still care about you.” Vlad reached over and slid a hand around to the nape of Alex’s neck, drawing him closer. His lips brushed gently, affectionately over Alex’s forehead, tickling at his hairline. The tenderness eased Alex’s discomfort. “Because you’re not like the other people I want to hurt. You’re important to me. I wouldn’t dare hurt you unless you let me.”

Alex wasn’t sure there were any circumstances under which he would want to be hurt, but he gave a faint nod.

“Do you still like me, Alex?” asked Vlad, voice soft with concern. “I’ll understand if you don’t, but I still like you very much.”

“I would still like you even if you did hurt me,” said Alex, and Vlad laughed softly, audibly relieved, and moved to wrap his fingers around Alex’s hand.

“Let’s go to sleep. I think we’ve trained enough today.”

* * *

Knowing of Vlad’s iniquitous desires didn’t affect Alex’s opinion of Vlad. He still thought him interesting and cool and kind; they still spent every waking moment together and slept in the same bed. His trust in Vlad hadn’t wavered. If anything, he admired him for his honesty, though he would admit that wasn’t an appreciation that had developed straight away. It’d taken him a day or two to overcome the discomfort of knowing he was keeping the company of someone who thought about hurting him.

But he knew if Vlad intended to hurt him without his permission, he would have by now, and he could have, easily. Likely without facing any repercussions, since he would be an adult again soon anyway. Being honest with Alex put Vlad at risk. But he had told Alex anyway, and it demonstrated that Vlad trusted him just as much as Alex trusted Vlad. Alex liked that.

The combat lessons continued. So did those in language and history, and eventually Vlad was able to start going through intermediate books on his own with the assistance of a dictionary and Alex’s occasional input. It wouldn’t be long before he could start reading the books more appropriate of his age group.

By now, they’d gone to church several times for Sunday mass and been provided a suit for the occasion. They sat in the back row, squeezed together between some old ladies, and both of them listened eagerly to every word spoken by the pastor. Their passion was even greater than some of the adults, who fidgeted and flicked through their bible and checked their phones. Maybe when you became an adult you developed less patience for things? Alex hoped that wouldn’t happen to him. He didn’t ever want to find listening to and hosting sermons anything but a pleasure and a privilege.

They often lingered after morning mass, partaking in coffee and biscuits and listening to the adult’s chatter. They didn’t go to school, since there wasn’t much point, so they’d more time for leisure than they knew what to do with. In any case, there was never a bad reason to have coffee and biscuits. They were only permitted to have the mocha kind of coffee, but they liked the coffee anyway.

It was mid-way into their fifth week at Ferdinant Lukes that they were invited to the laboratory again. Or, well- invited really wasn’t the right word. Asked firmly, but politely to go there? Was there a word for that? If there was, Alex had certainly never heard of it. He was happy to go, though. Anything to help the Vatican.

They were escorted by Renaldo this time, who had taken a day of leave just to be able to cart them there and back. Two men collected them at the laboratory entrance. Alex only recognised one of them from before, who greeted him with a smile and a wave of his hand. There was no need for them to change into gowns this time, since today's tests didn’t require them.

They were made to sit in the hallway while the veil was retrieved and the equipment set up. To keep them occupied, some magazines were provided, which Alex found dreadfully boring after thumbing through all three of the offerings. It was all gossip and recipes and some crossword puzzles that had already been filled in. He liked the pictures of strange, but pretty dresses in the back, but that was about it.

“Alexander Anderson.”

Alex raised his head upon hearing his name, preparing to slip out of his seat, but a man pulled up a chair beside him before he could. He had salt and pepper hair and thick eyebrows. His eyes were large and brown and his features handsome. Aged, but handsome.

“Don’t you make for an adorable ten-year-old,” he said with a laugh. “Especially in that frog t-shirt. Did one of the Mother's pick that out for you?”

“I did,” said Alex, and he was pleased with his choice. He liked the colour green. It suited his eyes. The Mother’s had always said so.

“You did?” The man smiled. “You have fine taste.”

Vlad watched their exchange in silence, picking at the sleeves of his shirt.

“You’ve been here before, you know,” continued the man.

Alex blinked at him. What a strange thing to remind him of. “Yeah, I was here a week or so ago.”

“No, no.” He laughed. “I mean before that. You were an exceptional specimen, you see, and the people here saw that in you.”

“Vlad’s exceptional too,” said Alex. Eager, as ever, to talk up his friend, and the man appeared slightly surprised by this. “Did you know he’s really old? I mean, as an adult. He’s really special.”

While visibly pleased, Vlad hindered any further compliments by holding a few fingers to Alex’s lips and making a shushing sound. Alex closed his mouth. A little reluctantly, but it occurred to him that Vlad might not want him to babble on about his personal life to someone they didn’t know.

“Perhaps he is,” said the man, and that was all the comment he offered on that front. “But we are talking about you. It’s nostalgic to have you here.” He reached over and made a mess of Alex's hair. Alex didn’t enjoy it as much as he did when Vlad made a nest of it, but he still giggled. “It’d be nice if you could drop by more often once you’re an adult. You could be made even more exceptional a man.”

“I can do that.” He was going to have to make a list of all the things his adult self had been asked to do.

The man smiled and reached into his lab coat pockets, emptying the contents into his lap and picking through candy wrappers, sticky notes and pens. He selected a small, half-used notepad and a pen and handed them to Alex.

“You were looking a little bored out here. Why don’t you-“ His eyes jumped to Vlad. “And your friend do some drawing.”

“Oh, sure! Thank you.”

“If you like, you could leave some of the pictures with the other staff," said the man. "I’ll stick them up in my office for you.”

Alex immediately began to draw a cat. Very poorly. He hadn’t any artistic talent to speak of. “I’ll draw some animals.”

“Make sure you sign them,” said the man as slipped away, heading down the hallway and around a corner.

“I will,” Alex shouted after him.

The cat he drew was by no means good, but he considered it passable as a gift. Adding a few hearts and stars made it more visually appealing, and he even signed his name on the bottom to enhance it (not that there was much improvement to be made to a shakily drawn cat on lined paper). When he was done, he tore the picture off and stowed it in a pocket, then offered the pen and pad to Vlad, eager to witness Vlad's artistic talent. He had such neat handwriting that Alex was anticipating something good.

But a card fell out of the pad as Vlad was searching for a clean page, and the realisation it was a _key_ card banished any desire Alex had to see Vlad draw. He’d seen those cards used before. They were needed to enter and leave the building, as well as certain rooms, and he was horror struck at the thought of the nice man – who the card identified as Adrian – getting himself stuck somewhere. You didn’t want to get stuck in a building as large as this. It could be hours, maybe even days before someone found you.

Alex plucked the card out of Vlad’s lap and turned it over in his hands. “We need to get it back to him," he said.

“Doesn’t he need that to leave?” asked Vlad, frowning, which was an entirely useless contribution.

“Yeah, that’s why I said we need to get it back to him!” Alex hopped off his chair and started to walk down the hallway in fast, fretful steps. “Come on, he can’t be that far. We’ll be back before we’re called in.”

“I’m not arguing,” said Vlad mildly, stepping out of the chair to follow him. “I’m not much of an artist, anyway.”

“Really? I thought they might have taught you art.”

“They did," said Vlad, hurrying to catch up to Alex. "I just wasn't any good.”

He reached Alex and they began a hasty walk toward the hallway their generous visitor had turned down. The building was silent save for their footsteps. Given its size and the general secrecy of the Vatican laboratories, that wasn’t exactly surprising. It would be hard to maintain secrecy if you had a lot of employees.

The man wasn’t in the hallway when they turned the corner, nor down either hallway of the T-junction at the end. There were, however, offices, and it didn’t take long for Alex to find a numbered door that corresponded to the number on the card.

Vlad moved to knock, and Alex stopped him. “Why would he be in there? He doesn’t have his key card.”

“Oh.” He was still processing how exactly this technology worked, clearly. “What should we do instead, then?”

Alex considered the door. This was as close to a solution as they were going to get, he suspected. “We’ll just leave it here and I’ll put the cat picture on his desk, to cheer him up. He’s probably upset about losing his card."

Alex reached to slip the card into the reader. It wasn’t ideal, but if he left it there, the man was sure to find it. With the door unlocked, Alex was able to twist the handle and invite himself inside, reaching into his pocket for the cat picture. A little crumpled, but the man would probably still like it. He’d gone through the effort of giving the cat four legs instead of the two that were traditional when drawing a side-view picture.

He approached the desk and set the picture down next to some papers-

And fell still when he spotted a folder on the desk with his name slapped on the front in thick, block letters. Vlad’s curiosity was drawn to it shortly after his, and he didn’t hesitate to grab it and flip it open.

“Vlad!” he cried, aghast at the breach of security. They were liable to get in trouble if someone found them reading this document.

“What?” Vlad slowly flicked through the pages. “It’s about you. There’s no harm in reading it.”

Though he wasn’t _trying_ to read, he still caught a few words. ‘Regenerator’, ‘successful’, ‘stimuli tests’, and his breathed hitched a little when a page of photos fell out among the sheets. He couldn’t help himself; he drew the page of photos close and peered down at the elder version of himself. He was considerably taller, broad-shouldered and had a scar crawling up his cheek. There were wires attached to him in a few of the photos, like those that had been stuck to his skin during the treadmill test. He was bleeding from the nose, mouth and ears in one photo, vomiting in another, and flexing in one further down the page. In the top left corner, there was a picture of him looking ill, frightened, and holding a bible close.

Exceptional, the man had called him. Because of this. Because whatever they had done to him, he had survived it. He couldn't tell what the purpose had been from the photos, but he knew it looked a painful, arduous process and he was unsettled by the knowledge he would recover memories of that pain when he became an adult again. It made him feel cold in the same way thinking about all the responsibility and loss in his future did.

“Alex?”

He didn’t immediately answer Vlad, slipping the photos back into the folder.

“Alex, you’re shaking.”

He looked at his hands. He was. “Sorry.” Taking a deep, centring breath, he stepped away from the desk. “I don't think I want to know my future. It’s… the photos…”

Vlad looked over the photos in question. “You don’t look happy here.”

“That’s why I don’t want to know.” His voice tremored and he hated it. He didn’t want Vlad thinking he was a baby. “All the stuff I’ve learned since this happened, I don’t… I don’t like knowing people are going to die and get old, and I don’t like knowing I’m going to hurt here, and I don't like knowing I'm so old.” His breath hitched, tears stinging at the back of his eyes. He'd told himself he wouldn't get worked up over his future, but he didn’t think he’d be able to hold them back. “I don’t want to know these things. I just want to spend time with you. That’s all I want. I don’t want the other parts.”

Vlad gathered the pages into a neat pile and slipped them back into the folder, closing it. He pushed it out of reach, to the far end of the desk, before turning to draw Alex close and tuck him under his chin like he did when they slept. His fingers ran soothing circles into the short hair at the base of his skull.

“I’m being childish,” said Alex, voice wet. “I know there are- there are worst things.” Things Vlad had experienced, things he couldn’t even begin to conceive of. 

“Don’t say that,” Vlad mumbled against Alex’s cheek, breath warm and comforting. “It's fine to be afraid. I'm afraid too.”

"You-you are?" he stammered.

"Who wouldn't be, in this situation? I'm afraid. We're both afraid."

Alex sniffed and gingerly wrapped his arms around Vlad’s chest, face buried in the junction of his neck and shoulder. The tears came freely once he had his face obscured.

“I've neglected to mention something,” Vlad murmured as he carded his fingers through Alex's hair, stroking his scalp. “I was worried you would try to stop me, but part of the reason I decided to learn Italian was so I could… so I could read up about myself." He gave a nervous lick of his lips. "I thought I needed to know what happened to me and my family, and maybe that was foolish.”

“It was,” Alex pressed out, voice muffled by Vlad's shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Vlad pressed a sigh into Alex’s cheek. “I thought you might want to read up on me too, and I… wasn’t sure you would like the person I was.”

“But you don’t know what kind of man you were.”

“I know what I am now, and I know what I have the potential to be.”

Alex rubbed his eyes on Vlad’s shirt to dry them and lifted his chin onto Vlad's shoulder. His face was still obscured, but he would be more audible this way. “Do you promise me?”

“Promise you what?”

“That you won’t read up about yourself.”

“I promise,” said Vlad, giving Alex a squeeze. The lack of hesitation in his response reassured Alex. “My growing ability to read and write Italian has better uses, anyway.”

Having regained some composure, Alex’s voice was steady when next he spoke. “Like what?”

“I could write you a nice letter,” said Vlad, running his hands down the slope of Alex’s shoulders. “Something you can read as an adult.”

Alex gave a wet laugh. “I never would have thought of that,” he said. “I'll write one too. Maybe you could teach me Romanian so I can-“

The door, which had been ajar, slammed violently open before he could finish his suggestion. They both jumped in alarm, disentangling themselves and turning to address the intruder. Who turned out to be the owner of the office, so applying ‘intruder’ to them had been a little premature.

To his great relief, Adrian didn’t appear angry about finding them in his office. Just relieved and out of breath.

“Oh, thank the Lord,” said Adrian, throwing up his hands with a sunny grin. “I found you both! For a moment there I thought I might have lost you to one of the, ah…” He flapped a hand and approached, herding them toward the door with his arms around their shoulders. “Never mind. The staff has been looking for you for a good ten minutes.”

A few minutes ago the guilt would have prompted tears, but Vlad had done a good job of soothing him.

“Sorry,” he said in a voice heavy with guilt. “I wanted to leave the cat picture on your desk, but we got a little distracted.”

“It’s alright,” said the man, brusque. He plucked the key card out of the reader once they were in the hallway. “No harm done. Those tests should be completed in a few minutes and then you’ll be able to go back to Ferdinant’s.”

Alex got the feeling he was trying to get rid of them, which was fair. They had invaded his personal sanctum. For a good reason, but he suspected Adrian didn't see it that way.

He was right when he said the tests would only take a few minutes. They were made to stand side by side with wires attached to them and touch the veil. Nothing happened, but the scientists excitably murmured something about it ‘registering them’ and scribbled notes.

They were given a flip phone before being hurried out the door. It was meant to call them with if their circumstances changed, but Alex used it to play a game called snake, which was something he discovered you could do after a few hours of fiddling around with the device. Vlad tried to play it as well, but he wasn’t very good at it.

They didn’t discuss what they had seen in the office. It was a topic best left alone. And anyway, it was much more fun to talk about what to include in their letters. They'd be written in secret, because both of them wanted the contents to be a surprise, but that didn't mean they couldn't give some indication of what they wanted to read.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter! Hope you guys enjoy it! Thank you to everyone who has read, commented, or given a kudos. ♥
> 
> Next up: the lingerie fic I've babbled about on twitter.

Alex awoke to a sharp pain in his legs and chest. He threw himself upright, gasping and grimacing, fingers slipping over his skin as he tried to grasp at what was causing him pain, and he discovered with shock that it was because his clothes had become too small for him. Most of them had ripped to accommodate his thick muscle, but some remained looped around him like a vice. He carefully wiggled his fingers beneath the fabric around his chest and legs and tore himself free, taking a deep breath once there was enough room for him to do so.

The realisation that he had aged came once he had enough oxygen in his brain to facilitate the thought. Seventeen, his mind provided, but he felt as though he’d been ten just yesterday and could recall everything that had happened in vivid detail. He could recall his other memories as well, but they came prior to his stint as a child. 

It took him a moment to realise he was alone in the bed, and he'd been in the middle of clamouring out to find Vlad when the absence of underwear sent him leaping back beneath the covers. Through the dark, he could just make out someone peering at him from the other side of the room, moonlight splashed over long, powerful legs and a muscular belly and- oh good Lord, Vlad was nude too, except _he_ hadn’t made any effort to do something about it. Alex diverted his eyes, face hot.

“I thought it might happen to you as well, if I waited,” said Vlad, and his voice held no trace of the child he'd once been. It was deep and masculine. Attractive, if Alex was honest. “Are you alright, Alex?”

“As alright as I can be without any clothes,” he mumbled, carefully wrapping the covers around his chest like a towel. “How old are you? I’m- I’m seventeen. But I remember everything that happened last month as though it… just happened.”

“So do I,” said Vlad. He crossed the room and reached for the light switch, flicking it on. Alex covered his eyes with a forearm. “Nineteen. I’ve used the phone to tell the scientists as much. They should be here soon with appropriately sized clothes.”

“Get under a blanket before then,” said Alex.

Vlad did exactly what he suggested. Unfortunately, it was _Alex’s_ blanket he slipped under, and Alex yelped in alarm at being joined by another, very naked body. He drew his knees up to his chest and buried his face between them, his ears so red they could have made for passable runway lights.

He’d never partaken in intimacy, at seventeen. Not the kind young adults traditionally partook in, anyway. He was in seminary school. He’d no inclination to do anything with a woman, and it had never occurred to him that he could do anything with a man. Both weren’t permitted. But here he was, completely naked and brushing shoulders with another man, and Vlad radiated so much heat that he almost involuntarily leaned into him.

“You seem embarrassed,” Vlad observed, faintly amused. He moved a hand over to Alex’s ankle, resting it there. Alex made a sound he wasn’t proud to have the capacity to produce. “Have you not seen another man nude before?”

“I have,” Alex mumbled, because Ferdinant Lukes had had communal showers when he’d been a boy. That wasn’t the case, these days. Now they had stalled showers.

“Then why are you embarrassed?”

He fidgeted with the blanket. “You aren’t ‘another man’, and this isn’t like a group shower, it’s…” It was difficult to explain, so he ceased attempting to.

"Ah." Vlad smiled. “You don’t have to continue. I understand.” He glanced at the door. “It’s rather funny that this happened. All that talk about the bliss of ignorance and now I know what occurred anyway. But the pain is not fresh, so I suppose that’s a consolation.”

Alex grimaced in sympathy. “Did you take your throne?” he asked, voice soft.

“For a short period,” said Vlad. “I wasn’t able to maintain it.” He closed his eyes, leaning his head against the headboard. “But I will surely get it next time. Surely.”

“Well…” Alex turned to rest a cheek on his knees. Vlad’s lower half was covered, so Alex needn’t fear seeing something he didn’t want to (or did and was in denial about that). “If you’re still alive, you had to have done something right.”

“I suppose that’s true,” said Vlad, casting him a warm smile. Alex had to fight down the urge to blush even darker. “I wonder if this will last longer for me that it will you,” Vlad murmured thoughtfully. “I’m quite a bit older than you, Alex.”

“By how much?” asked Alex curiously. “The last Sultan was, hm… late eighteenth century to the early nineteenth century, so you’d have to be older than eighty, at least. Probably older, if you’re ‘quite a bit older’ than me.”

Vlad hesitated before offering an answer. “Centuries, Alex. I’m several centuries old.”

Alex sat up straight, turning away from Vlad. His knowledge of history was greater at seventeen. He was well read about the history of all of Europe, and a possibility was nagging at him now that he knew how very old Vlad was. “When were you born?” he asked.

Vlad didn’t hesitate, this time. Perhaps he knew Alex’s thoughts. “I was born on fourteen thirty-one.” His hands were large, fingers thick, and when they curled around Alex’s chin to turn it, it was impossible to resist. Alex hadn’t gotten a good look at his face until now. It was undeniably handsome. Nose a little large, chin a little too narrow, but still handsome, especially with the hair developing on his chin and upper lip. “I am Vlad III Dracula, rightful ruler of Wallachia,” Vlad finished, his thumb grazing along Alex’s cheek. “You know of me, don’t you?”

Alex closed his eyes against the proximity and inhaled a sharp breath. “You’re better known as ‘Vlad the Impaler’.”

Warm air rolled over his lips as Vlad laughed. A soft laugh, but long and with great pleasure. It was both a pleasant sound and one that stood Alex's hair on end. “That is what they call me? I must become quite the formidable man.”

“There’s…” He wanted to mention Dracula, mention that Bram Stoker had crafted a story where Vlad the Impaler became a vampire. But he couldn’t bring himself to. Perhaps it was true in the future, but it wasn’t true for the Vlad sitting before him, the human, and it would only prompt pain to mention it. If he worked for a Christian organisation in the future, there was a good chance the story wasn’t even accurate. The Dracula of the novel certainly hadn’t come across as a man that would submit himself to serving humanity.

He closed his mouth and raised a hand to Vlad’s, carefully dislodging his grip. “That we shouldn’t know our futures still applies. I shouldn’t have mentioned that. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t take any issue with what you mentioned,” said Vlad. “That my enemies died so horrifically will be pleasant knowledge to carry with me.”

This new Vlad was going to take some getting used to, and if their growth continued throughout the next few days, he probably wouldn’t get long to adjust.

Whatever he’d been about to answer with escaped him at the sound of approaching footsteps. He jerked his head around to the door, drawing the blanket tighter to his chest. Not an especially important part of his body to cover, but Catholicism did place importance on modesty. Knuckles rapped at their door a moment later.

“I have clothes,” called Renaldo.

“You can come-“ Vlad began, but Alex silenced him with a scramble of fingers. Renaldo was respecting their privacy and he fully intended to take advantage of that.

“Just slip them inside,” he called back. “You don’t need to come in!”

There was a moments pause before four paper bags were slipped through the door and deposited on the ground. After making sure the bags wouldn’t topple over, Renaldo’s hands withdrew.

“I selected two sizes for you two to try. Let me know if you require more options.”

“We will,” said Alex, already pressing at Vlad’s shoulder to encourage him to retrieve the clothes.

“I’ll be just outside. You only need shout.”

“Alright.”

“And if you need anything else, I'll be happy to get that as-“

Alex made an exasperated noise. “Thank you, Renaldo! We’ll be getting dressed now!”

A shuffling sound, then the door was pulled completely shut. Vlad slipped out of bed once certain of their privacy and picked up the bags, emptying them onto his unused mattress. There were eight of everything. Eight pants, eight shirts, eight pairs of socks, eight undergarments, eight singlets, and one bag was bulging with shoes.

Vlad selected a pair of long black trousers, a singlet, and a dress shirt and stood, which prompted Alex to cover his face with his hands. Not before noticing he was well endowed, unfortunately.

He didn’t look up again until Vlad announced that he’d put pants on. Still pink-cheeked, Alex leaned out of the bed to grab himself the same clothes as Vlad, but with an added sweater vest, since he liked to be warm. He pulled the pants on under the covers while Vlad snorted at him, then vacated the bed to finish dressing. At the bottom of one of the bags, Alex found a pair of glasses. It looked like they'd glanced over his optometrist record, since the strength of the lenses was perfect. 

When he glanced at Vlad, he noticed the trousers were a little tight around the posterior area, perhaps a size too small for him, but he decided it would be tactful not to comment on that. He didn’t want Vlad getting the wrong impression.

The shoes and socks were next to come on. It took Alex a few tries to find a pair he found comfortable. Vlad took even longer, and now that he was nineteen, he hadn't any trouble tying the laces.

For the first time since awakening, Alex registered that it was still night. When he glanced at the time on the phone, it displayed five oh ten. Well before they would normally get up. No one except themselves and Renaldo would be awake at this time. Which was perhaps a good thing, since their presence would undoubtedly confuse the children. His similarities to the 'orphanage director' were probably uncanny by now.

"We're done," Alex announced. He was in the habit of doing so, courtesy of a childhood spent telling the Mother's when it was safe to enter dorms and showers. "We'll be with you in a moment."

It was a novel experience to step out the room and find they were now a good foot taller than Renaldo. Just another feature of their new bodies they were going to have to get used to.

“Are we heading back to the laboratory?” asked Alex. He expected the Vatican would want to keep an eye on them while they developed.

Renaldo’s gaze flicked to Vlad before he answered. “No, you’ll be staying in a nearby hotel.” Brushing past them, he retrieved the clothes from Vlad’s mattress and stuffed them back into the bags, carrying them out with the handles around his wrists. “Sister Yumiko and Sister Heinkel will be posted nearby to ensure nothing goes amiss, and you’ll have the phone should you need anything.”

The sister's were doing a fine job of keeping out of sight. Alex hadn't so much as seen them in his peripheral vision.

“Can we leave the location?” asked Vlad.

“You’ll be followed and observed if you do, but you are permitted to leave.” Renaldo started toward the exit and he and Vlad followed at his heels. “But you won’t be without privacy. No one will be watching you or disturbing you while you’re in the hotel.”

“Good,” said Vlad. He didn’t explain why he’d sought this information despite there being a lull in the conversation to facilitate it.

Renaldo was the one to break the silence. “You’ll be able to call room service for food," he said. "They'll be instructions on the back of the door. Just try not to rack up too big of a bill.” He guided them through the orphanage and out into the courtyard, where he gestured for them to slip into the back of a vehicle. The limousine again. “There’ll also be toiletries provided and some money to cover expenses,” Renaldo continued as he followed them inside, seating himself opposite Vlad. Alex took a middle seat. “You should have everything you need to live comfortably until you’ve both recovered the appropriate age.”

Vlad was quick to invade the drinks compartment and pour himself a glass of wine, which he sampled with visible pleasure. Not only was it modern wine, but it was likely expensive wine as well, given that this vehicle was owned by the Vatican.

Alex turned his attention to Vlad. “Did you want to go somewhere today? I assume that’s why you asked if we could leave.”

“That old knight teacher I mentioned used to tell me about Italy," he explained. "There are some locations I’d like to visit.”

“If you do go sight seeing, try to be back by ten,” said Renaldo. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a stack of sticky notes, scribbling something onto the top-most one. He tore the note off, blew on it to dry the ink, and extended it to Alex, who gave it a once over before slipping it into a pocket. It was just the address of their new lodgings.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Vlad assured him, which was the answer of a man not much concerned with obliging curfews.

They rolled to a stop before a towering hotel that was far fancier than Alex had been anticipating. A full five stars, he suspected. The lobby boasted immaculate white walls, plush red carpet, a chandelier, and two receptionists that greeted them with twin sunny smiles. Everything about this place screamed wealth. A strange experience for Alex, who had never possessed any, while Vlad displayed only mild approval. Having lived in castles, this was probably nothing exceptional to him.

Their room was on the third floor. Much like the rest of the building, it was beautiful and immaculate, and sitting on the bed he’d been allocated felt like sinking into foam. There was a divider between his and Vlad’s bed that Vlad didn’t take his eyes off even while Renaldo was giving parting words. The moment Renaldo had closed the door, he wheeled the divider over to a wall and pushed his bed into Alex’s.

“Vlad.” Alex threw up his hands in bewilderment. “ _What_ do you think you’re doing? We’re not kids.”

Undeterred by his reproach, Vlad moved his pillows and blanket so they crossed over to Alex’s bed. “If you don’t want to sleep beside me, then you can push my bed away.” He did the same thing to Alex’s pillows and blanket, arranging the linens in a way that gave the impression of the beds being a king-sized mattress at first look. “But I would greatly prefer if you didn’t.”

At the point, it felt unnecessarily combative to separate them, so Alex didn’t. And anyway, he did enjoy the thought of sleeping with Vlad as an adult. He just wouldn’t… dedicate too much thought to _why_ he did.

“Forget it. It’s too much effort to fix it.” He rose to retrieve their envelope of money from the dresser. It seemed an exorbitant amount of cash. “I don’t think we’ll have trouble paying for anything,” he said while pocketing a few notes, just enough to get them through the rest of the day. He didn't want his pocket bulging with hundreds of Euro. “Let’s grab some breakfast. Follow me.”

Judging by Vlad’s expression, he didn’t appreciate being ordered around, but he followed Alex nonetheless, hovering at his shoulder the entire way downstairs. It must have been getting on for six-six thirty by the time they stepped outside, since the sun had risen beyond the horizon and splashed a gentle light across the city. An early morning Rome was a pretty sight. Alex spent a few minutes admiring how green, clean, and glamorous his home city had become before guiding Vlad down the street.

Few of the shops he had known as a young man remained. Not that he’d eaten out often, but the Father’s working at his Seminary school had occasionally treated them to a dinner in town. Luckily, there were plenty of places serving breakfast, and he selected one with a balcony that looked out over the city. Alex did a great deal of staring while eating his cornetto, which he off-handedly mentioned had been invented to celebrate Vienna's victory against the Ottoman Empire. Vlad seemed in high spirits after hearing this.

After finishing breakfast, Vlad took a map from a nearby tourist agency and began to walk. Alex hurried after him. They walked down narrow alleyways, through streets congested with morning traffic, and up more sets of stairs than Alex cared to recall, and after an hours worth of walking Alex _still_ couldn’t figure out what they destination was. He’d been about to suggest a taxi when the top of the famed Colosseum appeared on the horizon. 

“Still standing.” Vlad gave a merry laugh and clapped Alex on the shoulder. “Come, lets head inside.”

Alex groaned. "We could've arrived here in fifteen minutes if we'd taken a bus or taxi."

"There's more sight seeing to be done, this way," said Vlad, and he pointed to the top of the map, which had almost that exact phrase. Alex rolled his eyes.

The Colosseum was the first of six historical sites they ended up visiting. Stepping into medieval locations would have been far more awing for Alex had he not needed to rein Vlad in the entire time, who seemed to struggle with the concept of boundaries.

“Why shouldn’t I be able to explore every part of a historical location?” Vlad asked after having security scold them for the third time that day. 

“Because a lot of people like to break and steal things as soon as security turns their back,” he snapped. That silenced Vlad’s complaints. He was more cooperative for the remaining two locations.

They walked the circumference of the Colosseum, ascended the steps of The Leaning Tower of Pisa, ventured into Ostia Antica, visited two ancient Churches, and finished off with a three course dinner overlooking The Trevi Fountain. At some point, Alex was lucky enough to convince Vlad to start using taxis, so they only wasted an hour or two on walking between destinations.

When it came time to order dessert, Alex insisted on doing it for both of them. Without informing Vlad of his selection, since he wanted it to be a surprise.

"I did tell you I would introduce you to chocolate cake," he said as a plate of chocolate cake was set down in front of Vlad. The wedge didn't have the cream nor strawberries Alex had wanted as a boy, but Alex expected it to be a delicious slice even without those elements. It certainly looked good, and Alex practically salivated when his own slice arrived. 

Vlad cocked an eyebrow at him and carefully speared a piece on his dessert fork. "My expectations are unimaginably high, thanks to you, and if this doesn't live up to them, I'll expect compensation."

Alex snorted. "How could I compensate you?"

Vlad's answer came in the form of a slow smile. He opened his mouth, set the fragment of cake delicately on his tongue, and began to chew. A soft, appreciative sound rumbled in his throat as he swallowed, and the rest of the cake didn't last long following his first bite. Nor did Alex's once Alex had gotten a taste. It was good, though not as profound an experience as it seemed to be for Vlad, who asked for two more slices before they left the restaurant. 

Alex collapsed into the bed upon returning to the hotel room. He was face down in the pillows as he toed off his shoes and shrugged off his jacket, throwing both onto the floor beside him. One too many cups of good wine had left him drowsy. He hadn’t drank to excess, but he’d certainly drunk himself into a state of tranquillity.

Vlad toed off his own shoes and helped him out of the rest of his clothes, leaving him in his underwear. The Vatican had neglected to provide them with pyjamas. He closed his eyes and paid little mind to the weight that joined him in bed, already well on his way to slumber as strong hands drew him against a solid chest. He barely managed to get out a ‘good night’ before consciousness abandoned him.

* * *

He didn’t awaken to pain as he had the prior night. He awoke instead to immense comfort, to warm breath tickling his cheek, strong arms encircling his shoulders, legs entangled with his, fingers buried loosely at the dip of his spine, and a steady heartbeat filling his ear. He didn’t open his eyes. He didn’t want to. He let himself remain submerged in that comfortable warmth, and he didn’t think to surface until the body pressed flush to his started to move.

When finally he wrenched himself awake, it registered that he was lying in bed with Vlad. Both of them were in a state of undress. Vlad even more so than him, as he'd neglected to keep underwear on, and Anderson would have jolted upright if not for the arms securing him to the mattress.

“Wha-what time is it?” he asked. It wasn’t the most coherently spoken question. “How old are you?”

Vlad looked well past his teens. He had long, dishevelled hair, a fully realised moustache, bristles on his chin, broad muscular shoulders, and with age had come greater refinement to his features. The wide-set nose and narrow chin suited him now. He wasn't the most conventionally attractive man, but he was undeniably good looking.

Vlad sat up and retrieved the phone from the bedside table, pressing it into Anderson’s hand before lowing himself back to the mattress. “Twenty-eight. And you, my dear?”

Anderson squinted at the phone screen. Five am. The early hours of the morning again.

“Twenty-six.” Anderson set the phone aside and scrambled back until his shoulders were to the headboard. He pressed his palms hard against his eye sockets and heated cheeks, trying for some composure. “It’s always disorientating, waking up like this.” He drew in a shivery breath. “Put some clothes on.”

“Later, Alex.” The springs squealed as Vlad shifted closer, idling his fingers along Anderson’s knee under the blankets. Anderson decided not to acknowledge it. “It’s early, is it not? Perhaps we could sleep for a little longer.”

“Father Anderson,” he corrected, as had become habit since being ordained. ‘Father Alex’ or ‘Father Alexander’ hadn’t sounded right to him.

“Oh? You’re a priest now?” Vlad’s intrigue was audible. He rose up onto his knees and set his face so close to Anderson that Anderson could feel the heat of his breath. His hair fell upon Anderson’s chest, tickling at his clavicle. One of his hands curled around Anderson’s waist so he could maintain his balance.

Anderson didn’t quite know what to do with a nude man sitting in such close proximity to him. The closeness stole his breath and thoughts from him.

“Have you kept your chastity vow?” Vlad asked, voice low and gruff, the fingers of his opposite hand dipping between Anderson's legs to trail up the warm inside of Anderson’s thigh. Anderson jolted in both alarm and arousal. “Tell me the truth. Have you kept it? Have you been good, Alex?”

“What-?” He choked on a breath, pressing his hands to Vlad’s broad shoulders in an attempt to create some distance between them. Vlad didn’t budge. “Of course I am! What do you take me for? I’ve never so much as- I haven’t even kissed someone!”

Vlad’s face dropped to the junction of his neck and shoulder, where he breathed in deep, fingers briefly curling into Anderson’s skin- and with a startling abruptness, he withdrew, moving to dress as Anderson had requested.

“I’m glad. Women and holy men alike have a duty to remain pure for the Lord.” He added in a rumble: “Or a Lord, depending on the circumstances.”

Anderson brought his knees together to hide the effect that primordial tone had on him. It was deeply, _deeply_ inappropriate for a recently ordained priest to have such a reaction to another man, but it was involuntary, not much he could do about it except try to will it away. “Throw me my pants.”

“Typically one would say ‘please’, and ‘Your Royal Highness’.”

Anderson scoffed. “Too much of a mouthful. _Please_ throw me my pants.”

Vlad did so after furrowing his eyebrows at Anderson. Just as before, Anderson pulled them on under the blanket and stood to continue dressing. They managed to vacate the building before the rising of the sun this time.

“Sight seeing again?” he asked while they trawled down the street.

Vlad gave the question some consideration before answering. “Something different, perhaps. Some modern marvels instead of ancient, while I still have the ignorance to appreciate them.”

“We could…” He touched his tongue to the back of his teeth. “See a movie.”

“I remember those from the books,” said Vlad. There had been an entire book on the development of television. “Lets us see a movie, then. I trust you’ll select a good one.”

“Well, you haven’t complained about my tastes thus far,” said Anderson.

Vlad smiled. A small, warm smile that had Anderson’s chest fluttering. “For good reason.”

It was impossible not to notice how tall Vlad held himself as they walked the streets of Rome, with great dignity and long-legged strides, traversing the city like he owned it. If Anderson remembered correctly, he’d been amid a rule at this age. The Voivode of Wallachia, a position Vlad clearly held with pride.

The map provided them the location of the nearest theatre and Anderson shelled out a few euro for popcorn, soda, and two tickets to a movie called Fuori Dal Mondo. The poster had displayed a nun and a baby. A combination that prompted immediate intrigue in Anderson. They sat at the back of the theatre so to avoid blocking anyone's view with their immense height and Anderson watched Vlad tentatively try the soda while the standard advertisements ran.

“Strange,” murmured Vlad, sipping again at his coke. “It feels as though it is attacking my tongue.” Another sip. “Pleasantly.”

Anderson had to bite back a laugh. “It’ll do that. Try some popcorn.”

Vlad did. “Full of salt,” was all the feedback he offered, but in an appreciative tone, so he must've been a fan. Made plenty of sense for a man who came from a time where 'salt and bread' was a common demonstration of hospitality.

The movie began after a good ten minutes of advertisements, and Vlad made it clear as the beginning sequence started that he hadn’t realised the advertisements weren’t part of the show. He paid greater attention once Anderson informed him of their actual purpose. 

The film kept them both captivated for a good many reasons, not least of because of how vivid the picture was. The story itself was perfectly composed, tense in the right moments, sad in others, and the soundtrack pulled on all the right chords. He might have sniffled a little during the ending. Anderson always had had a soft spot for simple films about the human experience.

They left the theatre elated and full of popcorn and soda. Neither of them felt like hurrying to their next attraction, so they stopped by a nearby café to nibble on a sandwich.

“How long have you been a priest?” asked Vlad.

Anderson hurried to swallow his mouthful of food so he could answer. “I was ordained at twenty-five,” he said, licking mayonnaise off his thumb. “I have a Bachelors degree in Theology, a Masters of Divinity qualification, and I spent three years as a Deacon, so Definitely earned my Priest ordination.”

“Ah.” Vlad bit off another mouthful of sandwich. Chewed, then swallowed. “I can see why you insist on ‘Father Anderson’. The qualifications weren’t quite so steep, in my time.”

“Which enabled a great deal of abuse among the holy men,” said Anderson with a scowl. “Not that there was a great deal of decency to go around before humanitarian laws and standards started being implemented.”

Vlad chuckled. “I imagine I’m a prime example of indecency.”

“I can give you kudos for being unabashed about it.” He set his sandwich down, picking idly at it. After all the popcorn and soda, he didn’t have much room for proper food. “You work for a Christian organisation in the modern age, so I imagine your methods have changed. Or are directed at the right creatures, at least.”

At this age, he knew the purpose of Iscariot and Hellsing was the extermination of unholy beings, the primary of which were vampires. He’d started training for Iscariot at eighteen and had steadily risen in the ranks, and now he was considered one of their most valuable members. The ‘regenerator project’ was in the works and he was a candidate, but he didn’t dwell on that; he didn’t especially want to remember what he’d seen in the folder. He also knew, vaguely, of an Alucard, but again: not something he wanted to think about considering the implications of Vlad taking that name while in the service of an organisation called ‘Hellsing’. If he let his thoughts stray to it, he’d start to think of how much of Bram Stoker’s story might be true, and that wasn’t a path of thought he wanted to follow to its end.

“Creatures?” asked Vlad, curious.

“Yes,” said Anderson, which was all the answer Vlad was going to get. “We haven't discussed what we'll be doing next, so how about driving a car? You, I mean. There ought to be a driving school with a teacher available around here somewhere.”

Vlad seemed slightly miffed by Anderson’s refusal to elaborate, but he didn’t press the subject. “Could you not teach me yourself?”

“I don’t know how to drive.” He’d never felt any need to. The Vatican provided chauffeurs to job locations and he rarely ventured out of Rome otherwise. “The Vatican and public transport suffice for my needs. But it’s an experience,” he said. “You might enjoy it.”

“We’ve already established that I trust your taste,” said Vlad. “So I’d be pleased to try driving one of your cars.”

This suggestion turned out to be a mistake. A terrible, disastrous mistake, though neither of them could have anticipated the horrors that would unfold shortly after Vlad clipped his seat belt into place. Not only did Vlad manage to drive the car out of the designated training area, up a curb, and right up a pillar letterbox within ten minutes of being handed the wheel, but he lost his temper on the shouting driving instructor and proceeded to slam a pen straight through the back of their hand. Needless to say, a great deal of Vatican intervention and money was required to conclude the debacle. They ended up spending the entirety of their day getting everything sorted.

Anderson only saw the humour in it a few hours later, after they had retired to their hotel. Quite abruptly, he burst into laughter while in the shower, doubled over with it, and was still struggling to catch his breath when he stepped out.

What an end to their day.

“You went straight the entire time,” he said, his voice a wheeze. “The entire time. Even while the instructor was screaming at you to turn the wheel.”

Vlad cast him an unamused look from the bed. Or the beds, rather. “I was occupied with trying to control the pedals.”

Anderson grit his teeth against another burst of laughter, slipping into bed and covering his grinning mouth with the blanket. “Yes, I saw,” he said, breathless. “Impressive that you managed to miss the break every time you put your foot down, but you certainly managed to hit the gas pedal plenty.”

Vlad huffed. “I stabbed a man today, Alex. Do you really want to be teasing me?”

“I recall you saying something about not hurting me without my permission.”

The rumbling sound Vlad made was reminiscent of a growling dog. He leaned over Anderson’s shoulder, curled an arm over his chest, across his clavicle, and leaned low, his lips by Anderson’s ear. “ _Severely_ hurting you. Chastising, on the other hand…”

Anderson didn’t move. Not because he was scared, not out of shock, but because he didn’t mind this proximity, nor Vlad’s guttural tones spoken against his skin.

Slowly, Vlad parted his lips and secured his teeth over Anderson’s ear, biting down. Hard, viciously, drawing a slither of blood and a whimper Anderson wasn’t quite able to suppress. His cock hardened in his trousers. His breaths became shallow for a reason entirely unrelated to humour.

Vlad withdrew just as slowly, sliding his tongue over the ravaged shell of Anderson’s ear. “Be a good boy for me, Alexander.”

When he moved back to his side of the bed, Anderson was left hot and aroused and squirming under the covers, his cock hard against his thigh.

God forgive him, but he would _not_ have complained had Vlad gone further in his chastisement.

“L-lets,” he started, his voice tremulous. “Let’s watch a few films before we go to sleep. We've still many hours left in the day.”

That would help him get his mind off how damn _attracted_ to Vlad he was.

* * *

Anderson didn't seem able to have a normal awakening. This time it was presence of hands at his waist, trailing up his sides, that roused him from his slumber. He blinked blearily as the hands ventured over each of his ribs and around the curve of his pecs, thumbs flicking delicately over his nipples and prompting a groan.

He peeled his eyes open the rest of the way and the Vlad that gazed down at him didn't look at all the like Vlad from yesterday. He looked younger. Clean-shaven with bright, red irises. A vampire, his mind informed him as his drowsiness receded and awareness of his surroundings took hold. Not just _a_ vampire; Dracula himself.

He should have shoved Vlad off and sent a barrage of bayonets at him, as was customary when one encountered a vampire. His every promise to the Vatican dictated that he should, but instead he found himself arching into the hands that were so expertly feeling out his every erogenous zone. He pushed at Vlad, pressed his knees into Vlad’s sides, but this was feigned resistance; his arousal betrayed the effect Vlad was having on him. The man hadn’t even needed to use mind control to bewitch him. 

“Vlad?” he said, voice breathy.

“Yes, my priest?” Even Vlad’s voice seemed younger, yet no less appealing. 

“You’re Dracula.” It was only as he said this that he noticed his cross had been removed. So had Vlad's, and he imagined the man hadn't woken up quite as slowly as him.

Vlad laughed and ran his lips delicately along the column of Anderson’s throat. “I am, and I’m terribly hungry for you.” He dropped his hands back to Anderson’s waist, slipping his fingers beneath the band of his briefs. “I feel as though I’ve waited centuries for this.”

Anderson swallowed thickly. The fingers at his waist drew his underwear down his thighs and calves, pulling them free of his ankles. This entire thing felt inevitable, and it was an inevitability of Anderson's own making. “If you want me, you have to _take_ ," he said. His legs continued to press into Alucard's sides like he was resisting, like he didn't want this, and it was fooling no one. “I’ve heard you’re good at that. So take what you will, because a good Christian man wouldn’t submit to this.”

Two thick, sharp fangs were unveiled as Vlad smiled. “Scream prettily for me, then, priest.”

The fingers that breached him were not gentle. But he was a regenerator now, and his body quickly learned to accommodate the intrusion as it did most things. They stretched him open with only spit to ease their way and Anderson cried out as Vlad had wanted. They reached deep, stroked at a sensitive bundle of nerves Anderson hadn’t known existed and that made him cry out even louder, his fingers and toes curling as an uncontrollable shivering wracked his entire body. He was stretched out until he was a suitable receptacle for Vlad’s hunger and the burn of Vlad’s cock as it slipped into him, right up to the hilt, felt good and right.

He didn’t hold back, just as Anderson had requested. Didn’t give him time to adjust, drawing a shout out of him with each punishing thrust. His hips slammed into Anderson's ass, the bed rocking with the force of his rhythm. The sound would undoubtedly carry through the walls, regardless of how thick and well-insulated they were, and Anderson didn’t have the presence of mind to care.

He reciprocated the violence, winding his arms around Vlad and tearing his fingers into his back hard enough that it would have left bloody welts on a normal man. Not Vlad, of course, and nor would Anderson have any of the scratches or bite marks Vlad inflicted on him when this was all over. He bit Vlad’s shoulder, his arm, and keened when Vlad retaliated by tearing his teeth into his throat hard enough to spill blood. Vlad’s nails drew heavy welts into Anderson’s waist and he thought vaguely, dazedly, that it was a shame he couldn’t keep them as a reminder.

The Count didn’t stop upon reaching his finish. He turned Anderson over, onto his chest, for another round, finding no resistance as he buried himself back into Anderson up to the hilt. One of his hands curled over Anderson’s nape, holding him in place, and Anderson nearly reached his own finish from the appeal of that alone. There was something thrilling about being a powerful, indefatigable man submitting so wholly to one of a similar strength.

Vlad didn’t touch his cock, but he didn’t need to; the striking of that sweet bundle of nerves within him soon had him spilling onto the sheet. He cried out so loud upon reaching orgasm that it was miraculous that they didn’t end up having the police called on them.

Again, the Count didn’t stop. Not after their first orgasm, nor their second, nor their third, and Anderson had started to lose track of what number they were at after a certain point. He just knew he was being fucked raw, filled, and he had started to drool and cry and pant and he didn’t care because it all felt so damn good. Vlad whispered filthy things into his ear, about how well he took his cock, how beautifully he cried, how he wanted to sully every inch of him until no propriety remained, and Anderson found himself mindlessly agreeing with everything.

It was well after midnight before their activities slowed to a stop. The exhaustion was beyond any Anderson had felt in years. His regenerative abilities ensured few inflictions lingered, but he was still aching and raw, thoroughly used. He could barely keep his eyes open as Vlad lay down at his side with his cock still wedged deep into Anderson, remaining warm within his accommodating body. It had been taught to accept Vlad’s length and girth over the past several hours.

“You are, by far, the best partner I’ve ever had,” Vlad mumbled into his sweaty neck. “They have made you into something exceptional, and you’re perfect for me. I was wise to decide you my concubine when I was young.”

Anderson only managed to yawn when he opened his mouth to answer. Vlad kissed his lips closed and covered his eyes with long, elegant fingers.

“Go to sleep, dear priest. I suspect we’ll have a lot to talk about, come morning.”

Anderson did as he instructed. He saw no reason to resist the call of slumber.

* * *

It was startling to wake up the following morning with Alucard still inside him, still so damn deep and tightly wedged that his cock may well have left an impression on Anderson’s insides. There was no escaping what had happened last night, that was for certain. Waking up with a cock inside oneself limited one’s ability for wilful ignorance. 

Alucard hadn’t slept because he needed a coffin for that, and he was peering at Anderson with a smile when Anderson turned to face him. He’d been inside him all night, watched him all night – God help him, Alucard was smitten, wasn’t he? It was hard to imagine what else being regarded with such warmth and affection could indicate. Anderson might not have much experience with relationships, but he recognised desire when he saw it.

He reached down to dislodge Alucard’s cock, biting his lip as it slipped free of him. His body had adjusted to the presence of Alucard so well that it felt oddly empty to be without it. He hated that feeling. Hated that it existed, and he didn’t utter a word to Alucard as he got up and stepped into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him so he could take a long, hot shower in privacy.

He turned the taps until they couldn’t be turned anymore, standing under the violent spray with his forehead to the tiles. There was enough seed in him that it took considerable effort to dig it all out. That made him feel even more empty, and he hated that too. The exertion of the previous day was so great that his recovered body still remembered it, and his thighs trembled in recollection of his exhaustion. It took some time under the spray for it to stop.

He tried not to think as he scrubbed himself of every reminder of the previous days activities, because he knew thinking would only lead him to further frustration and confusion. He still, despite his best efforts, found his mind flittering between the events of the past month. Their time together as children, their romps through the city as adults, their intimacy, his attraction to Vlad - to _Alucard_ \- from the point he’d been old enough for it to bloom. Most of all, he thought about how much of that attraction remained despite him having recovered memory of who and what Alucard was.

Former Voivode and Count, the first of the vampires, Anderson's arch enemy, the best friend Alex had ever had, someone he'd let fuck him for an entire day-

He pushed everything down with such force that he involuntarily began to bite at his bottom lip, splitting it and spilling blood into his mouth. The wound healed and he spat red into the drain.

A rapping at the door startled a jump out of him. He scowled at himself for his ridiculous response before glancing over his shoulder.

“You don’t need to shower,” he shouted. He knew how Alucard worked. He could remove filth without use of water. “Go back to your master.”

“Invite me in, priest,” Alucard called back.

Anderson scoffed and retrieved a bottle of complimentary shampoo from the floor. “Why the hell would I do that? I’m trying to forget what happened last night, not have a repeat of it.”

A moment of silence. Maybe of the hurt variety, but it was impossible to tell without being able to see Alucard’s face. It shouldn’t have concerned him, but it did.

He swore under his breath. A mouthful of words not usually permitted of priests, but he thought God could forgive him on this occasion.

“What do you want?” he asked, exasperated.

“To speak to you,” said Alucard simply. “But I will leave you be, should you need time alone. I realise you may need some time to process all that has occurred.”

Being treated gently was even more frustrating than Alucard’s usual, obstinate behaviour. “I’m not a slighted maiden,” Anderson snarled back. And he knew it was a silly thing to say, but he was frustrated enough that he wasn’t really thinking about what was coming out of his mouth. “You don’t need to treat me like I’m fragile, Alucard.”

“I won’t enter without your permission, all the same.”

“Is it some vampire thing? The whole ‘you need to be invited in’ deal?”

“Oh, I’m not beholden to that,” said Alucard, his smile audible. “Not anymore.”

Anderson tore the shampoo into his hair with greater violence than necessary and rinsed, neglecting the conditioner in favour of twisting the taps off. He wrapped one of the large, fluffy towels provided by the hotel around his waist and approached the door with a scowl set deep in his features, turning the door handle with a still-wet hand. Alucard stood, fully clothed, on the other side. Anderson’s heart accelerated at the sight of him and he would have physically reached into himself to stop it had he the ability.

“Don’t you need time to process as well?” he asked, a little snappishly. 

Alucard stepped through the threshold, and Anderson retreated despite himself. “I’m over five hundred years old," said Vlad. "Very little is difficult for me to adjust to.” His smile was still wide and warm. “And it’s not as though I haven’t thought about it, Judas priest. Being with you.”

“I didn’t take you for a romantic,” said Anderson, twisting a hand into the front of his towel.

“As romantic as wanting to possess you can be,” said Alucard. “Your strength and will is intoxicating. I would have gladly bed you, before all this.”

Anderson ran a hand down his face, which was rapidly warming, colour rising in his cheeks and the tips of his ears. This would have been so much easier had he not _liked_ hearing that.

“Don’t say things like that,” he snapped. “Talk to me like you usually do.”

“Our relationship isn’t what it usually is.” He took another step in and Anderson held his ground, chin high as Alucard came within a hairs breadth of him. “I’m much too old to play at being shy about what I want. I have no intention nor desire to dance about it. I want to possess you.” He slowly dragged his long, tapered tongue along his teeth. “Now more than ever.”

“You already had me.” Anderson curled his fingers tighter into his towel, knuckles white. “You got what you wanted.”

“Sex is a fleeting thing,” said Alucard. “That isn’t what I want.”

“What do you want, exactly? To continue this?” Anderson scoffed. “A priest and a vampire of two enemy organisations that are several hours flight from each other, and you want this to continue? Unless you’ve developed the ability to teleport, that isn’t happening.”

Alucard slowly tilted his head, examining him. “Last I checked,” said Alucard. “You were capable of teleporting.”

“Not along that distance,” he said, pursing his lips. He could go ten miles, at most. He was sure any further would end in disaster. “That doesn’t address the other issues, in any case.” Anderson dropped his hand away from his face to squint at Alucard. “Are you honestly looking at the logistics of this?”

“Seems you are, too,” said Alucard smoothly. He closed what little space was between them, murmuring his next words against Anderson’s lips. “If you lack the creativity for it, I’ll think of something. I’m not in the habit of forfeiting things I want if I can reasonably obtain them.”

Anderson moved one of his hands to Alucard’s shoulders and curled his nails into it, like he wanted to push him away. But he didn’t. He stood there while Alucard pressed a chaste kiss to his lips, neither resisting nor reciprocating, his mind at war with what he wanted to do and what he _should_ do. There was a simultaneous urge to lean in and throw him off; to pull him in and run away.

He knew Alucard now as more than just an enemy. He knew him a person, as someone he could like and _want_ , and it was too much, too complicated, too new. In the time he’d known Vlad, he’d loved him wholly and fully. 

“This is a mess,” he said, after some time.

“Not the worst one we’ve created between us,” said Alucard wryly. He drew back just enough to look Anderson in the eyes. “I can still leave, if you like. I won’t fault you if this is too much to process this early on.”

Anderson dropped his head, wet hair brushing Alucard’s shoulder. On top of everything else, this gentle and considerate side of Alucard was much harder to deal with than his possessive side. “I’ll try to pretend this didn’t happen if you go.”

“You say that like you want me to stop you,” Alucard observed.

Exhaling heavily, Anderson unwound his fingers from around his towel and rubbed at his eyes with a thumb. It was a good thing Alucard was so calm and perceptive, but Anderson was a little embittered by it as well. “Do you remember what I said to you yesterday?”

“What part?” asked Alucard.

“You know what part.”

After a moments pause, Alucard nodded. “I do.”

“Good,” said Anderson, shouldering past Alucard to get dried and dressed. He wasn’t doing himself any favours by standing almost nude in front of Alucard. “And the key word of my remark was ‘try’.”

In his peripheral vision, he could see Alucard’s smile stretch into a broad, toothy grin, his fangs on full display. One inch of give and the man looked overjoyed.

If he ended up regretting this, it wouldn’t be a surprise. But he hoped he didn’t. There was little he regretted in life and he didn’t want to start accumulating them now.

Alucard slipped up behind him, pressing a cool, open-mouthed kiss to the nape of his neck as he shrugged on his shirt. Anderson didn’t push him away this time, either. The war had eased just a little with that first concession (one of many to come, he suspected).

Alucard’s hand drifted briefly through Anderson’s hair before he withdrew.

“I’m not going,” he said airily, turning to make his exit. Through the wall, since he needn’t take the stairs like Anderson. “Keep that in mind, Judas Priest.”

Anderson took his own leave after. The Vatican would undoubtedly be eager to ask questions, maybe do some more tests, and Maxwell would want to update him on all that had occurred while he was indisposed. There might even be a job lined up for him.

He went to the Vatican laboratories first. Not his favourite place to be, as his younger self had discovered, but needs must, and he wasn’t likely to be there long anyway. They had him fill out a lengthy questionnaire and took some samples before sending him off. His next step was Maxwell’s office, who - as expected - proceeded to detail all that had occurred during his absence. There had been two vampire attacks on some contested land between Protestants and Catholics, but they’d managed to avoid conflict between the organisations by applying recent peace treaty discussions to the situation. Apparently his and Alucard’s ordeal had brought Hellsing and Iscariot to an unprecedented time of peace. Relative peace, at least. There would always be bad blood between them, but there seemed to be the tentative opinion that it didn’t need to be _all_ there was.

He couldn’t say he listened to Maxwell’s report with his usual attentiveness. Between the miracle and Alucard, his thoughts weren’t giving him a moments rest, and focus was proving elusive. Maxwell didn’t seem to notice, being the self-absorbed sort. A good thing, as he was certain Maxwell would have had plenty to say (and do) had he known about the culmination of little Alex’s and Vlad’s friendship.

He went home to the orphanage. Technically, it’d been less than a week since he’d last been there, but he still felt as though he’d been gone for a long time. The children greeted him back warmly and with cheer and spoke to him of a little, blond haired boy and black-haired boy who had been there during his absence, but had been picked up by extended family before he could meet them. Anderson had to laugh.

The Mother’s had tidied his room in his absence, removing the extra mattress and making his bed. The letter he’d written Vlad sat a little crumpled upon his dresser. He unfolded it and glanced over the boxy, childish text before closing it again and setting it aside with a frown. He hadn’t thought to bring it with him to the hotel.

The mattress had hidden the knife he and Vlad had thieved from the kitchen, but he expected the Mother’s had recovered it. He was going to have to apologise for that later. Toeing off his shoes, he sat heavily onto the edge of the bed- and jumped back up in alarm when he heard a _crunch_. Not of metal, so it couldn’t have been the knife.

Fisting his hand into the mattress, Anderson wrenched it up and peered under it, carefully drawing out a crushed cardboard box. There was nothing notable about it. It was just a plain box, no writing or anything to indicate who it was from or what was inside it. He sat back down on the edge of the bed and peeled open its lid. He hadn’t been sure what to anticipate, but it certainly wasn’t a phone, an envelope, and an intricately decorated silver cross on a chain the length of his forearm. The cross was, as he’d requested, absent of jewels, and no less stunning for it. He plucked it out and sat it in his palm, staring at it for some time before moving on to the other items.

The mobile was a simple grey Nokia with a single number in its contacts labelled ‘Alucard’, which was exactly what he’d been anticipating. He laughed a little at the phone, then at himself, and set the phone aside, reaching for the envelope. The mans attempts too woo him were certainly making headway.

He recognised Vlad’s handwriting immediately.

_Dear my good friend Alex,_

_I am sorry for my handwriting. I write this while you are asleep on my chest, which allows for ~~litt~~ I forget how to write this word. Not much movement. I would have written mine in the bathroom, like you did, but I needed more time thinking about what I wanted to say. When you fell asleep on me again, like you always do, I found the words came a lot ~~better~~ easier. Still not perfect, as you can see._

_It has been over a month and nothing has really happened to us. I think maybe the miracle was just an accident, but I feel blessed all the same. I like you a lot, Alex. Like a ~~sibil~~ brother, but also in the way adults like each other, I think, if that makes sense. It is hard to explain. I think you are funny and kind and I wish I had had you as a friend growing up, because I think my life would have been better if you had been there to guide my heart. Sorry if that sounds stupid. I am not really used to writing these sorts of things or writing in Italian. I'm using the ~~dic~~ the book with words to help write this._

_I’m going to go to sleep now, but I’ll add on to this letter in the following days._

_Dear Alex,_

_I write this while you are, again, asleep. It is strange but convenient that we recall the memories of the past month after our accumulative history, rather than before it. You’ll notice my Italian writing is much improved. I’d become quite proficient in writing Italian by this age._

_When I look at you, it occurs to me that God may have gifted you to me. The way the moonlight catches your hair makes you look as though you have a halo. I wouldn’t be surprised, had you been sent down to earth for me. I have heard relationships between men regarded as foul, but I do not think God would have sent you to me if that were true._

_Sleep well, my dear._

_To my dear Priest,_

_You’re delightfully boyish in your attraction to me. I can’t say many have demonstrated interest in me before, though this may have something to do with my methods of keeping the populace in line than my looks. I find myself deeply flattered whenever I see colour in your cheeks._

_It has taken a great deal of self-control not to simply claim you for myself. It’s only a matter of time before we reach union, and I look forward to it. We’ll give ourselves wholly to each other, as this is how such things should be consummated. You did agree to be my concubine. I hope you'll remember that when this is all over._

_You make sounds in your sleep. Little breathy sounds. I could listen to them for the rest of my life._

_To my finest bride,_

_How exceptional you are, Alex. I want to slip you into fine white silk and spend my evenings bedding you in my castle. Well, I suppose it’s a tourist attraction now, but had we more time that could have been rectified._

_This fleeting moment we have together has solidified our ownership over each other. You are mine, and I am yours. I think I heard you whisper ‘my Count’. It would please me greatly if I could get you to do it on a regular basis._

_I no longer posses my own soul, but I feel as though I've reclaimed some of it as I lie here with you._

_Sleep well, my bride._

_Dear Judas Priest,_

_I hope you like my gifts. Please consider using them. It would please me even more than being referred to as your Count, as that’s no longer applicable to me. But it's still on the table, if you feel so inclined. No longer being a Count doesn’t mean I wouldn’t enjoy it._

_I meant every word, Alexander._

_I look forward to the next time we meet._

For some time, Anderson sat in a pensive silence. He traced the creases in the paper with his thumbs and re-read the letter, going over it three times before finally deciding to set it aside. It was deposited gently back into the box along with the phone, while the necklace replaced the old, worn cross he’d received at his ordination.

He glanced out the window. The sun was beginning to set, but there was still time to send a letter of his own.


End file.
